


To Build A Heaven

by sageclover61



Category: Supernatural
Genre: ASMB2019, Addiction, Angel Air, Asexual Character, Asexual Dean Winchester, Asexual Raphael (Supernatural), Caves, Churches, Demon Blood, Discussion of Boundaries, Dysphoria, Episode: s04e07 It's the Great Pumpkin Sam Winchester, Fledgling Castiel, Fledglings, Gender Dysphoria, Genderfluid Gabriel, Holy Fire, Hurt Sam Winchester, Improper Use of Catholic Rituals, Internalized Homophobia, Internalized Transphobia, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Powers!Sam Winchester, They/Them Pronouns for Raphael (Supernatural), Withdrawal, conflicts of religion, reckless use of catholic prayers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 16:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20531117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sageclover61/pseuds/sageclover61
Summary: Sam Winchester had always believed in a higher power. It was a comforting constant during the chaos of moving all over the country throughout his childhood. And despite the fact that the things going bump in the night were real it never stopped being somewhat of a relief to believe that there was something good, even if there was no way to see it or interact with it. “Faith is being sure of what we hope for, and certain of things we cannot see,” Hebrews 11:1.Sometimes… Sometimes all you need is an archangel in your corner.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I can finally share this project that I started earlier this spring and I'm super excited for it! This is the piece I wrote for this years Supernatural Ace Mini Bang and I had the opportunity to work with an amazing artist, emmatheslayer! I hope you take the opportunity to look at the wonderful art that was made! It can be found at: https://emmatheslayer.livejournal.com/2019/09/05/
> 
> I couldn't have written this insanity without my beta, HyruleHearts1123, because certain parts of it were really hard to write. Enjoy!
> 
> There's some possible mentions of attempted sexual assault and possible mentions of child prostitution, I'm tagging this here only because the chapter divisions were done [Tuesday] and I'm not entirely sure what I exactly mean when I noted that at the top of my 88 page google document, so please bear with me.

To say that Sam Winchester befuddled the archangel known as Raphael would be an understatement. While the entire rest of the host was inclined to completely ignore, possibly even to go so far as to entirely mute, the child’s prayers, the Healer was incapable of entirely ignoring their own curiosity. In theory, if not entirely in actuality, they weren’t sure, but in theory, Sam Winchester was an abomination. As long as the definition was everything that was _ not _in accordance with the way things were supposed to be. God had, once, very long ago, set a Plan in motion. Michael and Lucifer would find and take their respective vessels, Michael would kill Lucifer, and there would be Paradise on Earth.

But God was dead. Or had abandoned them, Raphael didn’t really care which was which. Regardless of their feelings about humanity, which typically differed from day to day depending on the weather, they weren’t always sure that Paradise could _ be _ exactly as it was advertised. For them, Paradise was supposed to be _ all of them, all four of them, _together and happy again. Mikha, Heyl, and Gabri.

Raphael supposed that their Paradise could be in the Empty, the place that all angels and archangels went when they died, and that the only way for them to reunite peacefully with Mikha, Heyl, and Gabri, would be for the four of them to all be dead in the Empty, but that seemed to defeat the purpose of Paradise being on Earth.

So maybe that meant God _ didn’t _want Mikha to kill Heyl. They kind of hoped that was the case, because while Mikha had managed to somehow convince himself that he could do it, Raphael knew him better than that. There was no way that Mikha would ever come out of killing his mate with any sanity remaining. Watching God cast Heyl into the cage had almost killed him as it was.

  


But the rest of the host didn’t see that. They had somehow managed to train themselves into perfect obedience that terrified Raphael because it was quite possible that there had been brainwashing done. They didn’t know if Mikha was responsible, or if someone else had taken the initiative, but clearly there were seraphs willing to do absolutely _ anything _to bring about the apocalypse.

Including muting the prayers of one of the most respectful children Raphael had heard the prayers of in _ centuries. _

In theory, if Sam really _ was _ an abomination, then Heaven shouldn’t have been able to hear his prayers in the first place. It made some sense that as Heyl’s true vessel, Heyl would have to hear him, and that in and of itself gave Raphael hope because that meant _ Heyl _could still hear prayers and wasn’t so fallen as to have lost those abilities.

Either way, it was pretty obvious to the Archangel of Healing that they were the only one still listening to and for the prayers of the second Winchester. They heard enough to know when Sam left for college, Stanford, against his father’s wishes, and how upset he was about having to leave his brother. _ It stung. _ The prayers decreased after that, until Jessica Moore died and Sam went almost radio silent.

  


Sam couldn’t get Uriel’s words out of his head. “The only reason you’re still alive, Sam Winchester, is because you’ve been useful. But the moment that ceases to be true, I will turn you into dust.”

It was going to take a lot more than a dick of an angel to destroy his belief in a higher power. But it still _ hurt so much _ because he had brought up Jess, and Mom. He was saving people, hosts, with his powers, _ but at what cost? _ The road to Hell was paved with fucking good intentions and _ all he’d ever wanted was to save more lives. _ And what else had he wanted more than anything in the world? To believe in a _ good _higher power. Dean had tried to convince him that he didn’t need to stop believing, that just because these angels were dicks didn’t mean the higher power wasn’t greater--

_ “You were told not to use your abilities.” _

-_And Castiel had hesitated to shake his hand because_ _he was so tainted. So blackened by the demon blood Azazel had foisted on him that the celestial being didn’t even want to touch him. _

And then, to make matters worse, Uriel _ hadn’t _ stopped there. Uriel had brought _ that _ up. His deepest secret, the one thing he had kept hidden from Dean, and the angel had used it to taunt him. He hadn't even thought about _ that _ in years, not since before he had met Jessica, and yet now it was being thrown in his face, as filthy and shameful as anything else he had ever indulged in.

What did that say about how broken and evil a creature he was? He only wanted to do good, and yet it seemed even the divine believed him to be incapable of it. Maybe he _ deserved _to be smote.

  


Addiction was a _ slippery _ slope, and he _ knew that _ . He’d gone to college, seen what an excess of drugs and alcohol did to people. What was demon blood but another substance that really shouldn’t be anywhere near him? ‘Your body is your temple.’ _ He should have fucking known better. _ There was no denying the fact he was addicted. Calling Ruby whenever his store was empty? The shakes? The anger? The mood swings?

There was no denying it. It was time to stop, to put an end to it, for real. And no scaring Dean with withdrawal symptoms.

He dialed the number.

_ “Sam? Everything okay?” Dean, worried. _ He felt sick, but he knew it was necessary. He was _ done. _

“I’m going to check a lead a few towns over, I’ll be back in a week.”

* * *

Sam knew that the last time he’d gone to mass had been while he was attending Stanford. But Dean wouldn’t have understood his desire to attend, so he’d never mentioned it. Not even on Easter when he wanted nothing more than to witness the sacrament. Something would have to give, because he couldn’t keep sacrificing pieces of himself to keep everyone else happy. Eventually, there would come a time when he had nothing left to give.

He knew that before he could deal with going through the withdrawal, there was something else he needed to do first.

  


Stepping inside the chapel was like coming home. There was no other way to describe the peace that settled over him as he opened the door and went inside. He wasn’t here on business, he wasn’t here to question anyone, he was here for _ himself _.

Sam needed this, and he knew that, but he realized that he’d needed it more than he’d known. Why had he let himself fall for the demon’s snares so beautifully when it should have been his relationship with _ God _ that had soothed his grief when Dean had died? Everything had been for _ naught _now that the seals of the devil’s cage were opening up and the apocalypse was upon them.

“You seem troubled.”

Sam blinked, his attention drawn to the priest before him. He swallowed, lost in the soothing presence the voice offered. The priest was shorter than him and was growing just enough facial hair to make him look scruffy. He had brown hair, like Dean.

He shook his head, intending to clear it. “My apologizes, Father.” He scratched his wrist uncomfortably. “I… I came to do the sacrament of penance. Should I have called ahead to make an appointment?”

“I would be happy to take your confession.” The priest held out a hand. “I am Father Chuck.”

He shook the offered hand. “Sam.”

“The confessional is this way, Sam.” The priest led the way in the direction of the confessional.

“It’s been a few years since my last confession, or since I’ve come to church.” Life had gotten in the way, but that was an excuse. Was it a lie by omission? “My wife died, I dropped out of college, and maybe if I had tried harder I would have been to a church since then, but…”

“But sometimes life gets in the way. You’re here now, that’s what matters.” There weren’t many people around, just a few sitting quietly in the pews.

The priest went into the left side of the confessional and Sam waited a moment to get his bearings. He had sinned, and he felt _ so guilty _ and _ dirty _ because of it. And maybe, maybe this was the path back to the life he _ wanted _to lead.

He parted the curtain and kneeled in front of the opaque siding between him and the priest. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” And he _ had _ , so much, so badly, and he wanted to find a new path, a more righteous path. _ Even the angels believed him to be so wrong and broken and twisted inside and that wasn’t supposed to be _ him _ . _ “My last confession was four years ago.” He must have gone with Jess. He’d met her through a mutual friend, but they had been going to the same church without knowing it before that.

And they had gotten married because they had been _ so _in love. But hunting had caught up to him. It always did.

“Are you alright?” the priest asked.

“I married my best friend, we went to the same church.” Sam swallowed. It had been awhile since he’d actively thought about Jess, but she _ deserved _ his grief. “But I’d gone to college to escape my past, and when it caught up to me, she was murdered.” He swallowed again. “I’ve committed several different mortal sins, one of which was endangering human lives. If I hadn’t gotten close to her, she’d still be alive. I did tell her it was possible, and we had plans in place, but none of them _ worked _ .” He had taught Jess about hunting and the monsters that went bump in the night. They’d even gone on a few ghost hunts, _ before she’d gotten pregnant. _ But salting the doors and windows hadn’t been enough to save them.

“If you told her, and she made the decision for herself to stay by you, then you did everything you could. Danger may have followed you, but you're not the one who endangered her life. You’re not to blame for that.”

“She was pregnant, and I can’t help but think that if I had done something differently, like not going with my brother that day, maybe I could have done _ something _ . But I lied to my brother, told him she was just my fiance. He’d showed up out of the blue without a word for _ four years _ and he was so suspicious. Like it was my fault Dad kicked me out. That my being happy was a _ crime _ . And I couldn’t even tell him I was _ mourning my child and my wife. _” Tears slid down his face.

“Lying hurts our loved ones as much as it hurts us. If your brother loves you, he would have been willing to mourn your losses with you.”

“I shouldn’t have lied about that, and I shouldn’t have kept lying to him. I lied to him about where I was going today because he doesn’t understand my desire to believe in a greater power. It’s been a rough year because we’ve been lying to each other about some important things so our relationship has been strained. But I’m ready to come clean. I got addicted to a nasty substance, but I’m ready to go sober and come clean. I want to repent and fix the mess my life has become. It’s hurt my relationship with my family, and with God, and I want to rebuild it stronger and more stable.”

“I’m glad that you’ve been able to realize that the life you were leading is not the one you want, and it’s not the life God wants for you, either.”

“I’ve also given into lust with a demon, the same one that got me addicted to something really nasty. She tempted and manipulated me, and I should have said no, but I gave in.”

“We have all been tempted by the devil. And to fail, to fall short, is only human. But you came here today of your own free will, Sam. You came seeking absolution and you’ll have it. You are admitting that you have made mistakes and you are asking for guidance and a way to move forward from this sin. That shows your contrition.”

Sam bowed his head. He had committed so many wrongs since Jess had died, and not only that, but he had done so many terrible things in the last year. What penance could he possibly do to make up for all that wrong? He knew he was forgiven as soon as the confession was over, but how could God _ really _ forgive him so easily? “Father,” he whispered, voice catching as he tried to inhale shakily. “Father, how can I be forgiven so easily? I have committed so many wrongful acts just in the last year, how can I ever make it right? And I know, I know how absolution works, but even if I am forgiven, I’m just going to fail again and again.” Tears gathered in his lower lashes and he blinked. He was so _ weak _ , such a _ failure _. 

“_ Sam _ , my child, you will be forgiven, and you _ can _break the cycle of sin. You are here, in a confessional, and that, Sam, that is the first step. Past sin is not future sin. Can you breathe for me?”

Sam nodded, even knowing that the priest couldn’t seem him clearly through the confessional wall. He could breathe. He inhaled, then exhaled. Once, then again, and again. He sniffled.

“Do you have any minor sins you wish to confess?” Father Chuck asked.

Did he? _ That. _ But he hadn’t _ acted _ on it. But to even _ think _ about having sex with someone was to have already committed adultery with her, did the same apply to _ that _ ? _ No _ , he wasn’t going to think about it. He was sure he had committed some, but everything seemed so _ big _ right now. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “I haven’t slept with any strangers, haven’t wanted to sleep with any strangers. I lied to my brother, I’m always lying to my brother, our relationship is strained, but why _ wouldn’t _it be. I-” Sam’s breath hitched. “What is my penance?”

“It sounds like you and your brother have some things to work out, and I think you should try to restore the relationship you want to have with him. You should also start to decide what you _ want _your future to hold. It sounds like you have been unhappy with your life the last few years, and should consider, moving forward, how you can fix that. And I’m not advocating a cold turkey withdrawal from whatever it is that you’re addicted to, but you should decide if you are ready to get clean and restore your temple. I also want you to pray. Pray the rosary, pray for healing, pray for guidance.”

Make amends with Dean, go through his withdrawal, and figure out what he wanted from life. He could do those things. “Okay. I will make amends with Dean and get clean. My body is my temple.” The praying was a given. He _ wanted _to pray.

“It’s okay to ask for help. You don’t have to do it on your own.”

“I got myself into this mess, I need to fix it.” Sam sighed. He began the Act of Contrition, “O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell, but most of all because they offend Thee, my God, who art all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve with the help of thy grace to confess my sins, to do penance, and to amend my life. Amen.” He wanted to amend his life and head on a more righteous path. _ That’s what he wanted. _

“You are absolved of your sins and you are forgiven, Sam. Be at peace.” There was a pause, then, “Allow yourself to grieve and mourn, Sam. Your wife and daughter deserve your grief.”

Sam exhaled. _ Peace _ . He had sinned against Heaven and God, but he was forgiven. He’d forgotten the feeling of peace he’d always felt after confession. There was still some guilt, but he would work through the penance and that would be enough. _ It was always enough. _“Thank you, Father.”

He stepped out of the confessional. What did he want for the future? The angels had decided that it was Dean’s job to prevent the seals of the apocalypse from breaking, and he would of course be dragged along for the ride. But did hunting _ have _ to be what he did for the rest of his life? He’d tried so hard to get out, and it had ended with the love of his life, _ dead _.

“Hello again, Sam Winchester.” Sam turned his head. _ Uriel. _ “Did you really think a pig stye of human religion could make you any less of an abomination than you already are? Humans know _ nothing _ of the ways of the divine and there’s _ nothing here _ which can help your pitiful soul. The one your kind has put on a pedestal thinks _ withdrawal _ will fix you? Maybe you _ should _ go cold turkey. Get that nasty nasty demon blood out of your system. It won’t make you any less like the mud under my shoe, but you can _ try _.” 

Sam swallowed at the distinct sound of wings as Uriel left. Why would Uriel take the time to personally come torment him? Didn’t the celestial being have more important things to do with his time? 

“Sam?” He turned around again as the priest stepped out of the confessional. “I have something for you.” The priest appeared to be holding a vial about as big as his hand. “I wouldn’t give this to just anyone in the congregation, but I think you especially would benefit from this bottle of holy oil. You can use it to sanctify just about anything, but I think it would be especially useful for keeping the things that plague you at bay. Burn it, don’t burn it, just make a protection circle with it.”

Sam took the offered jar. He knew what holy oil was, but he wasn’t sure he understood why the priest was giving it to _ him _ of all people. Keep the things plaguing you at bay? _ Uriel. _ If it worked, he could use it to protect the space he began his withdrawal in. He could do this. He _ would _do this.

  


He knew it was going to be bad, but if he’d known it was going to be _ this _bad, he would have killed Ruby the first chance he had.

Sam decided to go through withdrawal in an abandoned warehouse because he didn’t have any better ideas. There was no way he wouldn’t attract attention in a motel, especially with the measures he was going to have to take to make sure he didn’t get free before it was over.

Some research told him that the vial of holy oil would be the best way to keep angels out of a vicinity, if he set a fire encasing the area. It seemed like a bad idea to go through withdrawal from inside a ring of holy fire, but he didn’t have any better ideas. He wasn’t sure that 12 feet in diameter was going to be a circle big enough, but it was all he had. It seemed more likely that he’d die from withdrawal symptoms than the withdrawal symptoms landing him in the fire, and even if they did, _ the fire would be the quicker way to go. _

Was holy fire a method of purification? Did things that went through the fire come out purer than before? That didn’t explain why it was one of the best weapons against angels, unless angels were so pure the fire couldn’t do what it was supposed to do to them? What would it do to him? He was so tainted, would the demon blood in his body light fire first while leaving his skin intact?

He swallowed back the bile rising in his throat. He didn’t want to know. With a deep breath, he took stock of his circle. It was small, but since he’d probably spend the entire time lying on the floor, it wasn’t so bad. He hadn’t lit the fire yet because he wanted to make sure everything was just right. _ This had to work, and he’d only get one shot to make everything right. _

He took the simple wooden rosary out of his coat pocket. It was fortunate that despite not being religious, John had seen the use of having a few spares in a hunter’s kit. This one was _ his _ . It had been a gift from Pastor Jim, who had seen how well Sam had taken to the ritual of the daily prayers. There was comfort in saying them, and even if there really was no higher power, he wanted to say them properly, _ one last time _. Never once had they failed to bring him a small measure of peace even when his childhood had been little better than bat dung.

Sam put his shoes and coat outside the circle of holy oil. If he got out of this alive, there would be plenty of time to figure out how to get out of the circle. Back at the center of the circle, he took a deep breath and threw the lighter, catching the oil on fire. Then he laid down and held the circle of beads in his fingers.

_ This was his penance. If he died without finishing his penance, his soul would be unfit for Heaven. It likely was anyway, but he had to try. _

The hunter took another deep inhale of breath. Despite the warmth of the fire, he felt safe. He turned the cross so that it was upright in his hand and then drew it across his chest from left to right. “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen." He didn’t always start his prayers with the sign of the cross, but he wanted to, this time.

“I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Creator of Heaven and Earth.” Sam whispered the Apostle’s Prayer quietly, in the original Latin, enunciating each word with unusual precision because this was important. “I believe in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord who was conceived of the Holy Spirit.”

Sam made it to the Lord’s prayer in the Sorrowful Mystery before he was sitting up and retching onto the hard floor of the old warehouse. He blinked wearily at the fire. _ He didn’t have any water. But he couldn’t have any water, that would make it too easy to put out the fire and escape. _He couldn’t be trusted not to try to find Ruby when the going got worse because this was just the beginning.

He blinked, turning back to the rosary, trying to find the bead he’d left off on so that he could continue. But his head felt like it was pulsing and he was seeing double, so couldn’t tell which bead he had stopped from.

_ He’d have to start over. _

He didn’t want to start over. Would he be forgiven for messing up? Or would he be condemned for it? His heart raced, and his breath sped up. He needed to start over. He couldn’t bear the thought of having come so far in an attempt at redemption, only to be foiled at the last moment. _ If he didn’t complete his penance- _

And so he started again, trying his best to ignore the way his arm spasmed as he tried to draw the crucifix across his body, but he couldn’t let himself stop and dwell on that. “In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” he rasped. “Amen.” He stretched his arm out in front of him. His fingers were shaking too badly to hold the rosary steady, so he stabilized it with his other hand. “Credo in Deum Patrem omnipotentem, creatore caeli et terrae.”  


Sam made it to the end of the first mystery. “Glory be to the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit both now and always, and unto the ages and ages of man. Amen.” He tried to slide his fingers to the next large bead, but his fingers slipped and the rosary fell out of his hands.

And so he tried again. And the fear continued to build

_ And so the cycle continued. _

* * *

Raphael had never stopped listening for Sam’s prayers, though they had ceased almost entirely when his wife, Jess, had been killed in a way much similar to his mother. And the archangel didn’t blame him for that. For some, tragedy led to them reaffirming their faith, and for others, dashed it.

On occasions, they heard Sam use the traditional Catholic prayer to bless water. There were a variety of ways to get holy water, most hunters choosing less religious ways of doing so. But they were glad that Sam had not lost his faith completely.

And then, one day, in the first week of November, while they was trying to figure out what was going on with the seals, they heard Sam’s voice as the hunter started the beginning of the Rosary Prayer. They would never mistake Sam’s voice for anyone else’s, but the precision and regard he gave each word was not common, not even for the younger Winchester.

But the Winchester didn’t finish the prayer, which was unusual, cutting off somewhere in the middle of the Second Mystery. Perhaps he’d gotten distracted, or something. 

About twenty minutes later, he heard Sam’s voice again, hoarser, but still precise, right at the beginning of the prayer.

It was one thing for Sam to get cut off in the middle of the prayer once and then start over again. But he lapsed into silence and repeated himself, _ over and over and over again. _ The lapses grew longer and the prayers shorter, but Sam Winchester never failed to start the ritual at the beginning.

_ “And forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” _

And unlike the last number of times Sam had been trying to finish the full set of Prayers, he cut off in the middle of one, and Raphael could still hear him, because he hadn’t _ ended _the prayer.

_ “No. No! I have to finish! I have to finish! And… And tempt us… no, that’s not it. Why can’t I remember this? I just had it!” _ Raphael heard the clanging of the rosary falling out of Sam’s hand, it sounded like wood hitting cement. _ “No, no, this isn’t right- Where was I? In the name of the… Amen.” _

Raphael had no idea what was wrong with Sam Winchester, but they knew it was severe enough to warrant investigation because there was no way someone as precise and thoughtful as Sam failed to recite the entire Rosary Prayer as many times in a row as he just had, and it was painful to listen to him stumble through it over and over again when he clearly cared about getting it right, just _ once _.

It took an instant to arrive, and he was _ almost _blinded by what he saw.

They’d never seen Sam Winchester in person, but his soul was so bright as to almost blind the Healer. It didn’t make sense to them because they’d been led to understand that an abomination’s soul would be a dark, rancid, rot infested thing that looked as though it needed to be put out of its misery. But this _ supernova _was not corrupted. They could see the demon blood adding pigment of color to the soul, but not darkening or poisoning it.

The human was surrounded by a large ring of blazing holy fire, and the Healer could only wonder at the reasoning behind the measure. Holy fire wouldn’t work as a cage against a human. Burn him, badly, if he touched it, but not keep him imprisoned if he chose to risk vaulting over the top of the flames. But there was no signature of a single living creature having entered or exited the warehouse in _ years _ with the exception of the human standing in the circle, which meant that Sam had _ chosen _to set the fire.

Was he trying to keep himself safe from angels? It would function, but it was much easier for someone outside the fire to put it out than it would be for someone inside the fire to do the same.

“Sam,” they said, wondering if they would even be able to get the human’s attention. But they didn’t have to wonder long, because Sam did react to the sound, and then they knew _ exactly _what was going on.

_  
The boy with the demon blood was suffering from demon blood withdrawal, and he had trapped himself in a ring of holy fire with no way of escape, _ and he was dying. _ _

* * *

Sam blinked at the hazy figure standing outside the ring of fire. Between the migraine and the fire, he couldn’t see them very clearly, except it looked like they had hundreds of pairs of gigantic steel grey wings. He couldn’t count them, but it seemed likely that there were at least a hundred pairs. “Are you God?” he slurred. Did God punish people who tried but failed to recite the ritual prayers? For making sacrilege of his penance? Or maybe he was just so _ wrong _ that God was here to smite him for even _ trying. _“I’m dying, aren’t I,” he whispered. “Withdrawal leads to organ failure.” Why could he know detail that and not even remember the last two lines of the Lord’s Prayer? “You’re going to escort me to Hell.”

_ _

“Oh, Sam, no.” Sam could barely hear the hazy figure, but they had the voice of a metaphorical angel. He supposed that made sense for a God. But why would a God come for an abomination like him? “You’re not going to die today, and if you were, I’d escort you to Heaven myself. I’d like to help you, but your ring of holy fire is preventing me from coming in there, may I have your permission to put it out?”

_ _

“Why would you help me? I’m just ‘n abomination.” Sam squinted, trying to chase the dark spots in his vision away, but they only got larger. “I’mma die.” He didn’t want to die, but giving in to the darkness seemed like it would almost be easier. And he’d never be in Dean’s way again. Or anyone else’s. His trembling fingers tightened on the rosary in his hand. “I let you in, _ after _ I pray Rosary.” Because if the God couldn’t get in, then maybe he couldn’t strictly die _ yet _.

_ _

Raphael had no idea how they were supposed to argue with that. Sam wanted to pray the Rosary, not for any intention, but because he _ wanted to say it right _ . He expected absolutely nothing to come of it, and in fact still seemed to believe that Raphael was there to reap his soul. And he wasn’t going to fight that either, as long as they didn’t try to reap his soul _ before _he’d completed this one last task.

_ _

“What if I lead you through it?” they suggested. “I know you’re having some difficulty concentrating, but perhaps I can guide you?”

_ _

Sam thought about it. He wanted to say the whole prayer by himself without any help at all, if only to ensure he wouldn’t be damned, but he wasn’t an idiot. Frustrated, perhaps, but not stupid. The priest had even said it was okay to ask for help. Even God, maybe. “Where’s you’r rosary?”

_ _

The hunter was sure that the Being had been empty handed, but sure enough, as he peered at them again, they were clearly holding a dark grey rosary.

_ _

“In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen,” they both chanted, drawing their rosaries across their bodies.

_ _

The sign of the cross was followed by the Apostle's Creed, in the Latin, and then the Lord’s Prayer. Sam still couldn’t remember the last stanza on his own, but he was able to follow the lead of the God that was helping him. The three small beads passed through his fingers as he repeated the Hail Mary incantation thrice, and then onto the Glory Be prayer.

  
  


Raphael watched Sam as they led the soothing repetition of the Mysteries. They were hardly complicated, but Sam was clearly _ not _ functioning at a regular cognitive level. Most angels didn’t pray, had no reason to pray. They didn’t either, but this was hardly the usual situation, and for some reason or another, they felt that Sam’s desire to do this was worthwhile, even if his body was failing and Raphael wanted nothing more than to put out the fire and heal him _ right then. _

_ _

They made it through the four Mysteries and into the concluding section of the Rosary. Sam rasped brokenly through the Salve Regina and the Loreto Litany.

_ _

As Raphael was about to move into the final Sign of the Cross, Sam’s wavering voice solidified. “Saint Raphael the Archangel, great prince of the heavenly court, please protect us from the snares of the demons as we travel. And I humbly pray you to heal the many infirmities of my soul and body. And I implore you to purify me to prepare me, that I might be a cleansed temple for the holy spirit. Amen.”

_ _

Raphael had never heard that particular prayer before, and while they had heard some dedicated ones from time to time, they had never heard one from Sam and never as an intention in the Rosary.

_ _

Sam had no trouble leading himself through the final Sign of the Cross, which was a good thing because Raphael had both ceased paying attention and held no intention of a repeat performance if Sam decided this wasn’t good enough.

_ _

“May I put out the fire now?” Raphael asked, a little impatiently.

_ _

Sam would have nodded, probably, if not for the fact that at that moment, the darkness in his vision overwhelmed him and every muscle in his body seized.


	2. Chapter 2

Raphael winced when Sam’s head hit the ground, but they were glad the human had already been lying on the ground when his body convulsed. They snapped, putting out the fire instantaneously because Sam was already convulsing and there was no  _ way  _ they were risking the human burning himself.  _ You never mixed open fire with withdrawal. Seizures were a likely probability. _

Another snap had the bodily fluids cleaned up, and Sam’s coat and shoes neatly folded on a bedside table rather than sitting on the floor.

The archangel moved, kneeling by the human. They shifted, pulling Sam as gently onto their lap as they could, and then they carefully healed the failing organs one at a time. They wanted to take Sam somewhere more comfortable to wait out the duration of his withdrawal, but they recognized that there weren’t really any safe places to do that. So they sat, holding Sam on their lap while they waited for him to wake up, and hoped that the contact would help ease his suffering.

  
  


Sam was aware of the sensation of someone rubbing his back while he retched before he was aware of anything else. The next logical conclusion he reached was that he was not dead, and while all of his muscles hurt, they didn’t hurt at much as he might have guessed they would. So maybe he was dead.

But why was someone touching him? He was sure he’d trapped himself in a nice ring of holy fire, which suggested he was hallucinating. But he was definitely not horizontal and he was definitely not dreaming he was retching. Which didn’t leave very many options.

“It’s going to be alright, Sam,” the soft voice of a metaphorical angel said.  _ Oh, right, he’d forgotten all about the God Being.  _ “Just let all that nasty demon blood out of your system. You’ll feel a lot better.”

Sam spat what bile out of his mouth that he could, but that only led to coughing and gagging because just like always, the sticky substance was trying to further trigger his reflex. His stomach muscles spasmed, leading to him heaving. But nothing else came up.

He folded back into the solid figure behind him like a marionette with cut strings. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know who they were yet, whoever they were, they were willing to sit here and hold him while he puked out his guts.  _ Was it Dean?  _ He wondered hopefully, but no, it couldn’t be. If Dean were here, Dean would have told him off as the  _ thing  _ Sam had become.

His head still hurt too much to even think about trying to open his eyes, so he mumbled weakly, “Who’s you?”

“I am Raphael, Archangel of Healing,” the gentle voice said. “And you are worth so much more than withdrawal symptoms on a warehouse floor.”

Shame blossomed in Sam’s chest. He’d meant every word of the prayer of intention, but he hadn’t meant for the archangel to actually respond, or even to hear it in person. Faith was never designed to have a solid assurance of its reality,  _ but it felt so nice, even if he didn’t deserve it. _

“No, Sam.” With his eyes still closed, Sam could imagine the Being’s infinite true form surrounding him. It was warm, soft. “I’m not reading your mind, but I can tell what direction your thoughts are taking, and you  _ do  _ deserve this.  _ You are loved, Samuel Winchester.” _

Sam wanted to demand answers to the one question he couldn’t understand.  _ Why? Why him? College dropout, hunter of supernatural creatures, the boy with the demon blood, he was nothing.  _ But the fatigue and the pain and the overwhelming feelings of inadequacy had nothing on the comfort the archangel was radiating. “Thank you,” he whispered instead, voice filled with reverence and awe.  _ Why hadn’t Dean’s angels been like this? _

  
  


Raphael kissed the brow of the mortal falling asleep in their arms. They had done what they could to ease the suffering of the mortal, but healing withdrawal entirely was beyond their abilities. Fortunately, it seemed that Sam was through the worst of it.

  
  


“Why are you still here?” Sam asked an indeterminable amount of time later. “Why did you come at all? I was safely contained in that holy fire, there was no one I could hurt.”

“You would have hurt yourself, Sam, and you are a person. You were not safe in that ring of holy fire. You were dying. And you had more than one seizure. You could have easily flailed into the fire. Or died of dehydration, if the organ failure didn’t kill you first.”

“But why do you care? So I would have broken the cordial sin, you could have just left me to my Hell. It’s no less than I deserve.”

“Sam, Sam, sweet  _ child _ . When Dean made the deal with the crossroads demon for your soul? He took you from your  _ Heaven _ . Intentions are relevant, but  _ circumstances matter too. _ And the demon blood Azazel forced on you as a baby was not your fault.”

Sam could understand that, if the age of accountability was really a thing. “But what about  _ this.  _ I  _ chose  _ to swallow the demon blood, and I chose to give into  _ lust  _ with a  _ demon _ .”

The archangel rubbed Sam’s shoulder comfortingly. “Ruby manipulated you when you were at your most vulnerable, that’s not on you. She convinced you that she was helping you at a time when you weren’t ready to ask for the help that you needed. But  _ this  _ Sam,  _ this  _ shows just how strong you are, even at your weakest. You’re alive, Sam, you’re alive and you strong, beautiful human are  _ not  _ going to die today.”

The compliments made Sam blush. He wanted to argue, but he couldn’t. How was he supposed to argue with an _archangel _of all beings? If anything of the supernatural could _know_ Sam, it was going to be Raphael. “You’re sure?”

Raphael hugged the human tighter. “ _ Yes,  _ Sam.  _ I’m certain. _ ” Other things they were certain about included knowing that there was no  _ way  _ this soul was supposed to house Heyl, which meant that they were also certain that they had better get their act together and figure out what God really wanted. Because it was absolutely  _ not  _ the path everyone was headed towards.

The archangel snuggled with the human, and slowly, Sam recovered.

  
  


Sam’s cell phone rang, waking both the human and the archangel. Raphael had tended towards not sleeping, but Sam was mostly recovered and they hadn’t been so concerned that dozing off for a few minutes would lead to any harm.

Sam blinked wearily in the direction of where the sound of the phone was coming from. He was so comfortable, encased in the warmth of the archangel, that he didn’t want to move. But… “My brother is going to kill me if that’s him and I don’t answer.”

Raphael smiled. “I know how older brothers can be.” They blinked and a second later, Sam was holding the phone. “Go ahead.”

The hunter opened the phone and put it on speaker. “Hello?”

_ “Sam! I have no idea what you’ve done, but the angels are raging about it!” _

“Dean, I…” Sam swallowed. “I realized that Uriel was right, so I… I quit the demon blood, cold turkey. I knew the withdrawal would be bad but… I’m okay.”

_ “You could have died! Pulling that shit all alone. Where the fuck are you? I’m coming to get you.” _

Sam gave an address, but he felt a bit of regret because he wasn’t ready to leave. He felt the archangel stroke him, likely trying to soothe the edge of his emotions. He was pretty sure the Healer was an empath, even if they’d been careful about not reading his mind.  _ Sam appreciated the gesture. _ The phone clicked, leaving Sam staring at a blinking screen.

“It’ll be okay, Sam,” Raphael said. “I’ll wait with you until your brother gets here.” They considered for a moment if they wanted to go through with this, and decided that there was no way they weren’t. “If you need  _ anything  _ even if you’re just lonely and want someone to talk to, you can pray to  _ me  _ and I will come. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy, doesn’t have to be a ten line intention. I can hear your other prayers, part of being an archangel, but I promise to respect your privacy and only come when you ask me to specifically, or when your life is at risk. Okay? I care about you and I  _ want  _ to spend time with you, if you’ll let me.”

“Really?” Sam asked, half hopeful and half awed. “But I’m-”

Raphael interrupted him. “You are  _ not  _ worthless. You’re kind and gentle, and you are  _ so loved. _ I promise. And I promise I’ll figure out what’s up with ‘Dean’s angels’, okay?”

“Thank you!” Sam tried to wrap his arms around the archangel, but the position didn’t allow for that to work well.

They listened for the characteristic sound of the impala. Even ignoring speed limits, it still took Dean almost an hour to get there, but he did. With a nod at the archangel, Sam slipped out the door.

  
Raphael waited and listened to the sounds of the impala leaving.  _ He knew what he had to do. It was time to talk to Gabri. _

* * *

The cage was not what humans, or angels for that matter, or even demons, thought it was. It was not a place of torture, and really, the word cage gave the wrong impression. It was more like an empty room that was as big as the one inside wanted it to be. Lucifer, but really, his name was Heyl, could see all the sides of the room, but let’s say that it was infinitely big.

To say that Heyl was bored was an understatement. He’d been in the room for an unimaginable amount of time and there was absolutely nothing for him to do. But even more than the boredom, he missed his family. And his mate.

His Father, the one who had put him in timeout in the first place, had promised that even though he was in trouble, he was still loved. But he had been in timeout for a  _ very  _ long time, and from time to time he couldn’t help but wonder if they’d abandoned him after all. Who needed physical torture when he could simply torture himself with doubt?

But most of his time in the cage wasn’t spent considering the possibility that he might have been abandoned. Instead, he spent it the way he assumed his Father had intended it to be spent. In contemplation of his actions, and the fact that actions had consequences, but that God  _ also  _ wanted them to have free will, and that while painful, his actions had been for the best and he was capable of learning from them.

Heyl had come to accept that while there were some positive consequences for his actions, ie, humanity had gained freewill and in theory, so had his siblings, there had also been some problems with them. He’d put his family, and the humans, in danger, and he’d put himself in danger, which was why he was  _ in  _ timeout. But as long as he didn’t do them again,  _ and he had no plans of doing them again,  _ then there would be no reason for anyone to punish him further.

__   
  
  


And then, suddenly, he was no longer alone. The presence came through a minute crack in the wall, filtering to one spot along an edge.

Heyl tugged harder on the blanket wrapped around his shoulders, trying to imagine the comforting scent of Mikha as a sense of already having someone on his side. He watched, fear and trepidation filling his entire being. Had his sanity broken enough that he was finally imagining other company for himself? Or had God Himself finally come to worsen the punishment because milenia of an isolating time out hadn’t been good enough?

Tears welled in the archangel’s eyes. All he wanted, more than anything else in the entire universe, was for God to hold him and tell him that everything was okay,  _ that he’d served his punishment and would now be forgiven.  _ But what if that wasn’t why He was here? What if He wasn’t here at all, was merely a figment of his imagination?

His presence continued filtering into the cage and Heyl came to understand that it was really Him and not a figment of his imagination. But that didn’t lessen his fears, instead making them stronger. He’d been left in the cage for so many millenia, so why was He here now?

“ _ Heylel _ ,” He said, as soon as his entire presence was inside the cage. His tone was soft, worried, and still filled with the underlying current of love. God took a step forward, intending to embrace His child.

Heyl ducked his head, tears falling as he tried to hide in the blanket that was his last connection to his mate. And he took a step back, terrified that for all God  _ sounded  _ like He still cared, it would be a trap intended to hurt him even more than he already ached. “I’m sorry,” he wailed. “I’m sorry I convinced Eve to eat the forbidden fruit .”

“Heylel,  _ Heylel _ ,  _ you are forgiven. You were already forgiven.” _

Heyl sobbed harder. There was no way this was real, could possibly be real. The humans might have believed their God to be one infinitely benevolent, but he  _ thought  _ he knew better than them that He wasn’t. He  _ was  _ broken, imagining the one thing he still wanted, the one thing he could never ever have.  _ The one thing he didn’t deserve. _

“ _ Heyl.” _

And then he was being held and there was no mistaking the very solid Being as anything but real. The blanket was shifted away from his face, even as he tried to hang onto it. “I’m sorry, Heyl. You were not supposed to be in here so long, that was not what I ever intended, and  _ I’m so sorry _ for that. And you’re wrong. I was never mad that you gave Eve the forbidden fruit, I was disappointed that you felt it necessary to  _ lie  _ to me  _ and Mikha  _ about  _ why _ . But I still love you, Heylel, and I missed you.”

The archangel continued weeping and the blanket was dropped on the floor as he clutched at his Father’s tunic.

God held Heyl as he wept. He soothed the young adult, but didn’t try to hush his cries. Heyl deserved comfort. Leaving him alone for so long had been a mistake.

“Can I… Can I go home?” Heyl asked, sniffling. His tone was fearful, as though he wasn’t sure that it was an option.

“Absolutely,” God said. “If that’s what you want.”

Heyl chewed his lip. “Does Mikha hate me?”

“He doesn’t hate you, but he didn’t pick up the lesson about being an adult that I had hoped he would learn.”

“Does he think you really intend for us to fight?” Heyl had laughed when he’d heard it the first time, but now he was just afraid that his mate really would choose the fiction over the love they had shared.

“I”m not sure. I had hoped that stepping out of Heaven would provide the distance necessary for him to learn free will by letting you out of time out, but I was wrong. And if you decide that you don’t want to go back to Heaven yet, you are welcome to come hang out on Earth. I  _ think  _ you might like it.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Your timeout is over. Some… misbehaving seraphs may have earned a time out, but yours is over. Promise.”

“ _ Thank you. _ ”

Heyl pulled away from the hug, ready to follow God out of the cage. He reached to pick up the blanket on the floor, but he couldn’t recognize it. So long had he and the blanket spent in the cage, but it no longer smelled intrinsically of  _ Mikha _ , only of desolation and desperation.

A father and a son left the cage, empty save for a piece of threadbare cloth that no longer held the characteristic that had once made it the most royal fabric in the world to its owner.

The Father’s heart ached for His second born. His child was no longer crying, but the listless expression on his face, not caused by years of isolation but at the feeling of abandonment by his mate, was painful. He’d thought He’d been doing the right thing,  _ but He had been so wrong. _

* * *

Sami didn’t know where Rafa was, only that Rafa was no longer in Heaven, and they were terrified. Naomi was always giving them nasty looks, and while it was usually possible to hide from her by hanging around Rafa, that wasn’t possible now.

So they ran. Angels could get hurt in Heaven, but for the most part they didn't have the same basic needs as humans. So they could hide until they were certain Rafa had come back.

There was one place they could think of where Naomi wouldn't look. It was scary, but real safety was more important than comfort. Aand more importantly, no one had ever seen Naomi approach the haunted chasm.

The main part of Heaven was the Silver City. The angels lived and worked there. The garden was at the center of Heaven, but the Silver City wasn't at Heaven's center. The Silver City had been built with an edge not far from an edge of Heaven. And of course, the gate into heaven was one gate into the city. Humanity didn't get to see that though, because they went to their heavens with haste.

There were places where the edges of Heaven and the edge of the city weren't the same and it might have been fun to play there, but everyone knew a monster that liked eating small angels lived there.

Sami was more afraid of Naomi than a child eating monster. At least then the hungry monster would have subsistence and could maybe be convinced to make it a quick death and not the lingering pain Naomi was well known for causing.

“Hello?” the angel called as they slipped into the entrance of the caves.

There was only silence. After a fearful hesitation, they knelt because the ceiling was too low to allow for standing.

Naomi was taller than Sami, the angel thought. Naomi wouldn’t want to look for Sami here. But what did that say about the chasm monster?

“Hello?!” Sami called again. They didn’t want to be eaten, but maybe everyone was wrong and they were just a lonely creature too.

“Hello?”

Sami could have mistaken this hello as an echo. It wasn’t the same, but equally terrified, though raspier.

The fledgling continued crawling. “I’m Sami,” they said. Talking to the void, even if it was just an echo, created a comfort that the dark and scary cave could not provide.

Sami’s voice echoed through the cavern, but not so terrified as the other voice, this time.

There was silence, once Sami’s echo died away. Sami did not think it so overwhelming now, but started to almost believe there had been no other voice, when suddenly the silence was broken.

“I’m Gadreel,” the void answered.

It was not a name Sami had heard before, but did not seem out of place. It was a good name. A solid name. A name that could have belonged to any of their older siblings, they just didn’t think it did.

“Why are you here?” Sami asked.

There was another long pause, but now that Sami knew the creature down here could speak and had a name, it would not have been possible convince Sami that they were imagining the creature.

“I no longer remember.”

Sam couldn’t guess at the age of the creature from the sound of their voice. They sounded weary, but even another kid could grow weary after being in isolation for a long time.

It was easy to break someone whose very being was designed to be surrounded by others of their kind.

“I’s sorry,” Sami said. “You won’t eat me, will you?”

There was more echoing and more silence, but Sami was certain that whoever the creature was, they could still hear them.

“Why would I- ? No!”

There was more silence. The emphatic no had sounded so broken to Sami’s ears that they wondered if they’d caused further harm to the creature that must have been so lost and alone down there.

“No, kiddo. I don’t eat our kind. I’m sorry that’s the misconception.”

Sami didn’t really know what the big word meant, but they did know what the voice meant by ‘our kind’. The ‘monster’ everyone was terrified of was an angel who had been in the chasm for a  _ very  _ long time, and who was quite possibly one of the loneliest angels in existence.

The angel kept crawling. They would comfort the other angel. Maybe when Rafa came back, they'd know how to help this angel. “Gadreel? Where are you?”

“You're almost here,” the other angel answered.

It only took Sami another minute of crawling to reach a place where the cave opened up into a larger cavern. There was a little more light in this room because there was a large chasm opening up towards the surface.

Further ahead, the cavern narrowed, and Sami saw Gadreel. They were kneeling on the ground, one set of long wings pinned to the ground by large boulders. A second set of wings was wrapped tightly around their shoulders like a blanket.

Sami stood, and stumbled their way into the arms of the seraph. They wanted Rafa and they were still scared of Naomi, but Gadreel was trapped and terrified and deserved snuggles too.

* * *

Raphael had never stopped keeping track of their little brother. Gabri might have run off when Dad left, but that didn't mean that they weren't going to keep any eye out. The world was a big place and all they wanted was for him to be happy.

Gabri might have thought he was keeping a low profile, but the only reason the host never bothered him was because Raphael knew he wasn't ready to talk to them. And they'd been inclined to allow it, but they couldn't afford him that any longer.

Raphael found their little brother in a penthouse suite, surrounded by illusions. They were good, but Gabri had always been good at manipulating reality.

They rapped on the door frame. “Excuse me.”

Gabriel walked in the direction of the newcomer. “How can I-?” He stopped as soon as he came face to face with Raphael, and his concentration wavered enough that  _ all  _ of the illusions faded. “Raphael.” His tone was bitter, frozen. He refrained from addressing his sibling as ‘Rafa’ because his older siblings didn’t deserve the friendliness using their short names implied. Not if they were going to destroy the world like the dicks they were. “What do you want? Why are you here?”

Raphael studied their younger brother. Even after all the long years since Gabriel had left, they’d never lost the ability to see through their little brother’s attempts at hiding how he really felt.

Gabriel wasn’t happy, but more than anything, he was hurt. Raphael wondered if revealing themselves to Gabriel sooner would have kept Gabriel from feeling so much pain. But Gabriel had seemed to be happier for having left Heaven.

But no. “Gabri,” they said softly. “Gabri.” They moved forward, embracing Gabriel in a flurry of arms and wings.

Gabriel clung to his older sibling. “Why are you here?” he repeated, quieter. It took everything he had not to turn into a blubbering mess. His siblings wouldn’t stop fighting, they didn’t  _ deserve  _ his pain.

“I am here because letting you run away without making sure you were okay was a mistake,” Raphael answered. “And because I had hoped for your help. There’s no way Dad can want the apocalypse to go the way Mikha thinks he does. Have you  _ seen  _ Sam Winchester’s soul?”

“It’s a pretty soul,” Gabriel agreed. “But what would  _ you  _ know about it?”

“I know that Sam deserves so much more than the host would give him. He’s so strong and brave despite everything that’s happened and he deserves the love and kindness he thinks he’s failed to earn.”

Gabriel smiled sadly. “You’re in  _ love _ .”

“Maybe. That doesn’t mean I don’t need help fixing everything that’s gone wrong.”

“What do you want me to do about it?” Gabriel asked. “You were always the peacemaker. All I remember is Michael and Lucifer and Dad fighting  _ all the time _ . I mean, I guess you could talk to Dad about what he wants. Not that I’m going to tell you where to find Him.”

The smaller archangel quivered in Raphael’s grasp. “I don’t want Mikha and Heyl to kill each other or destroy Earth. I like it here.”

“I know, Sweetheart, I know,” Raphael soothed. “I’ll fix it, promise.” They didn’t know how they were going to prevent the world from ending, but they were going to do it.

More importantly, Gabriel reacted positively to Raphael’s words, whimpering, but less upset, into Raphael’s neck.

Gabriel clunch to Raphael, and the older archangel held their little brother. It was soothing. They should never have let so much time pass.

_ “Raphael said they would come, but I don’t think I understand why they think I’m significant enough to do that for and I just saw them so it’s more than reasonable for them to be busy with their Very Important Angel Business, but loving God, in the meantime, please, grant me peace of mind and calm my troubled heart. Please give me strength and clarity of mind. Fortify me with the grace of Your Holy Spirit and Help me to desire always that which is pleasing and acceptable to You so that Your will may be my will.” _

  
  


It was odd. Sam’s way of praying was usually calm, deliberate, with each word being carefully considered before it was said. But Sam’s prayer this time was hurried, stopping and continuing as if through shaking breaths. Raphael had sworn to let Sam have his space, but this was something concerning, especially since Sam was supposed to be with his brother, and safe.

“Gabri, I have to check on Sam, but I promise I won't go so long without visiting you again.”

“Go take care of your mate. But I’ll come find you if you haven’t visited by the end of the year.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Do I want to know why you decided that now was a good time to go through withdrawal?” Dean asked.

“Your angels were making me feel unclean! You  _ know  _ how important my belief in a higher power is to me.”

“I don’t understand it, but I do know.”

There was no music playing in the Impala. Dean was thinking, trying to decide what else he could say. Sam had always had so much faith in a higher power, and he was kind of surprised that Uriel and Castiel had not managed to shatter it yet. If anything, the week away seemed to have strengthened Sam’s faith. “And you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” Sam said, a touch hastily. “But I wouldn’t say no to a light meal. Withdrawal sucks.”

Dean was still suspicious, but Sam did look a little pale and exhausted, and he also knew what Sam was referring to. “Hamburgers it is.”

Sam wouldn’t give up on the salad, but he swore he’d be able to keep it down. Dean wasn’t convinced, but he wasn’t ready to argue with Sam about it yet.

Overall, everything seemed to be going well. Until they got to the motel Dean had checked them into before picking up Sam.

Castiel and Uriel were inside the hotel room already. Their faces were expressionless. The hairs on the back of Sam's neck rose and his skin wanted to crawl. He  _ knew  _ they weren’t lying about what they were, but they were so  _ different  _ from Raphael.

“Dean,” Castiel greeted.

“What do you want?” Dean asked.

“Your job is to stop the seals from breaking,” Uriel said. “Don’t think we can’t send you back to Hell if you don’t behave.”

Sam refrained from pinching the bridge of his nose. Calm. He wanted peace and quiet, and maybe a place to meditate without  _ these  _ angels doing their best to upset them.

“Dean? Can I talk to you outside?” Cas asked.

Dean shrugged. “Sure, Kiddo.”

Sam blinked, watching as Dean’s angel crossed the room towards the door. He stared, trying to see beneath the surface. He’d been able to see and feel Raphael’s supernatural figure, size and power. Not clearly, as looking up Castiel’s true form had blinded Pamela, but more than nothing.

Sam couldn’t make out where Castiel’s wings were supposed to be, but he could tell that Castiel was tiny in comparison to Raphael’s true form- like a child.

Dean had not talked about what had occured in Hell and Sam suddenly wondered if it was not as Dean had implied. A glance at Uriel as Dean and Castiel slipped outside told him only that Uriel’s form was bigger than Castiel’s.

“Heaven does not care for you, abomination. The Righteous Man and his time belong to us. You are nothing.”

Sam did not care for Uriel. He did not have the same feeling of awesome power as Raphael and he hated bullies. “Dean is my brother. And I’m pretty sure he’s going to do what he wants.”

“There are seals to keep from breaking, and he is wasting time retrieving you. I wonder how he would react to the demon blood?”

_ Loving God, please grant me peace of mind and calm my troubled heart _ . “I’m done with the demon blood. Dean knows that.”

“Does he really? Who do you think he’d believe? His angel? Or you? How does he really know it was withdrawal you went through? You weren’t alone, how do you explain that?”

Sam hadn’t asked Raphael to show up. He liked being alive, sure, but it hadn’t been necessary. That had been Raphael’s choice. But would Dean understand that?

_ Please grant me strength and clarity of mind.  _ Uriel was  _ nothing,  _ not a messenger of God he needed to be listening to right now.

“Don’t have anything to say, Abomination? Good. You’re the worst of the mud monkeys and you deserve nothing but the Hell you’ve been condemned to. Your faith has been for nothing, your God doesn’t love you. Can’t love you. You don’t deserve His love.” He hissed.

“What is going on here?”

Sam knew that voice belonged to Raphael.

Uriel froze, before shifting uncomfortably, but didn’t speak.

“Uriel,” Raphael’s voice was like the depth of the ocean, steady and unwavering, but dangerous. “Why are you tormenting the Righteous Man’s brother?”

“He’s an abomination and doesn’t deserve even a single moment of the Righteous Man’s time!” An anxious sort of wheedling had entered their tone.

“This is  _ not  _ for you to decide.” Their words were heavy and fathomless. 

Sam backed towards the edge of the room. He was glad Raphael was here, made him feel wanted, but Uriel’s words still stung.

“What is going on in here?” Dean stepped back inside, followed by Castiel.

Raphael turned towards Dean. “I am Raphael.” The archangel blinked. Their gaze stony “What have you done to my baby brother?” They were no longer looking at Dean, their attention was solely on Castiel.

Uriel shifted even more uncomfortably. Dean merely looked outraged at his accusation. “What I did!? What about what you did? Sending an entire legion of baby angels into Hell to retrieve me was hardly a responsible big brother thing to do! You don’t get to blame me for your own damn actions!” 

“I most certainly did not order the garrison of the youngest angels on an expedition into Hell!” Raphael’s voice had reached a downright terrifying level of sincerity. Sam found himself easily able to believe why the shepherds in Bethlehem had run upon seeing the angel and were not soothed upon hearing their voice.

Angels were the soldiers of God. While He may have been benevolent towards the people of Israel when they had not angered Him, that did not mean that He was not as wrathful as He was mercy. Sam could see that now, could understand why Castiel and Uriel were dicks. Uriel saw humanity only with contempt.

But that did not explain why Raphael had shown him mercy. They were an archangel, more powerful and awesome (in the archaic meaning of the word) than any of the rest of the host. If anyone was going to show him kindness, why them?

“Well someone most certainly did because I can assure you that they weren't there of their own volition! If they had not been in Hell in the first place, the first seal never would have broken!”

Dean was so pissed. Sam could still see Raphael better than he'd seen the other two angels, could see quite clearly how their wings shook with agitation and fury. And he was frightened, not of Raphael, but for his brother who had never learned when to speak and when to hold his tongue.

Castiel had slunk across the room so that he was now standing in Sam's personal space. His facial expression was one of both emotional hurt and physical pain. “Sam,” he whispered, curling in on himself and towards the human, “Sam, why did so many of them have to die? Inias and Hester, and Hannah, and Ezra and… and Balthazar…”

Raphael was wrath. Even Dean could almost make out their flaring wings as they pivoted to stare at Uriel.

It seemed that Uriel could not decide between standing up to Raphael or fleeing. Instead, one foot had stepped backwards and he still stood tall. His lips turned toward scorn and disgust.

“It is your job to protect your younger siblings,” Raphael snarled at the offending seraph. “So why don’t you tell me  _ how _ and _ why  _ the youngest garrison was battling in  _ Hell _ . They’re not even allowed to visit Earth alone and unsupervised!”

Uriel sputtered. “The Righteous Man wasn’t going to spill blood in Hell! Not of his own volition, he was too ‘pure’ for that! But he  _ would  _ act in the defence of the innocents! And what do you care about the youngest garrison?! They’re squalling disobedient infantiles!”

“That was not for you to decide!” Raphael _reached_.

Castiel whimpered and Sam, Sam  _ knew  _ what was about to happen. He stretched, pulling the angel child into his arms because there was no reason for him to watch Raphael smite the other angel.

Sam still couldn’t see Castiel’s wings, but he could feel them. Raphael had become enraged because Castiel’s wings were severely damaged. Burnt feathers and membrane melted and singed against the crispy and boiled wing flesh. It nauseated Sam, who could almost smell the burning flesh.

The flash of white light was blinding such that both humans had to close their eyes. Castiel whimpered louder and Sam  _ prayed _ , a request for God or someone to heal the broken wings of the angel who had only tried to do as he,  _ they?  _ had been told to.

Raphael may not have heard the prayer, but Uriel was trying to flee so their focus was hardly going to shift. It was right where it needed to be.

And for a moment, just for a moment, Sam could feel more than just the awesome power Raphael was expending. All the demon blood was gone, Sam knew that, but for a moment it felt like the strength was running through his veins and there were exactly two things he wanted.

Peace and safety for himself, and to protect,  _ heal _ , Castiel. 

And Sam exhaled.

Sam’s prayers were akin to meditating. He had prayed for himself, but it was a way to let go of his fears and worries. Not necessarily to push them onto the deity, but troubles shared is pain halved. It didn’t have to amount to anything, but it meant that Sam didn’t feel alone.

He didn’t feel alone now, either, nor afraid. Not in this moment, as he held the baby angel in his arms and  _ felt  _ rather than saw the extraordinary power of Raphael  _ disintegrating  _ the unruly seraph who had ordered the babies in his care to fight Hell. 

Sam’s blood Sang.  _ Heal,  _ he thought, wished,  _ prayed,  _ a desire for comfort, but this time not for himself, but instead for the fledgling in his arms whose very  _ grace  _ was wailing in pain and agony, screaming for comfort and security and for anyone,  _ anyone, even Sam the Boy with the Demon Blood, the Abomination, to just do something. _

And in that exhale, something did happen.

Uriel screamed, once, as shock gave in to fear and pain, but only for the instant it took for Raphael to have obliterated him. It was a mercy he didn’t deserve, but no one was going to think about that, not with humans and fledgling in the room.

But that was not the only thing to happen in that moment.

Dean yelped in surprise and minor pain, yanking on the amulet hard enough to break the cord and dropping it to stare at the burn forming on his hand from where he’d touched the burning metal.

Sam, eyes closed, hands resting beneath the base of the fledgling's wings, was a  _ hearth _ . His blood was singing, boiling, but it didn’t hurt. He felt  _ alive _ , safe and secure with a newfound certainty that this was  _ right. _ It was like being wrapped in fleece blankets just pulled from the dryer, and somewhere so deep inside his core, there was no room for doubt.  _ Heal,  _ he repeated, conscious that the decision was his own, but that didn’t stop it from being a  _ command, _ though the Voice he heard did not belong to himself.

The base of Castiel’s wings glowed a soft white as the boils repaired themselves and the skin knit itself back together. When the skin at the base was healed, the blue light spread outward across his wings. The skin healed and the melted feathers rejuvenated, color shifting from blackened gray to a healthy baby blue.

Dean stared, because for the long moment it took Castiel’s wings to heal, he could  _ see  _ them. Raphael had also turned, watching with curiosity but refraining from interrupting because this was  _ important.  _

Sam felt Loved, and as the sheer healing power passed from his fingertips, he wanted nothing more than to sink into the embrace of the Entity he was sure was holding him.

The light wove the rest of the way up Castiel’s wing tips, and the fledgling giggled because it  _ tickled _ . The vessel he was wearing shortened, shifting from middle aged to pubescent child. Sam's arms returned to his sides and he watched.

Sam was falling, strength failing as he’d given what he had to the healing process and he could  _ feel  _ the Entity retreating.  _ “You are Loved, Sam Winchester,” he heard even as there became Nothing. _

* * *

Castiel, now a three foot child, scrambled towards Raphael. “Rafa,” he whimpered, high pitched voice conveying fear and stress. “Rafa.” Raphael was standing next to Dean Winchester and the child wrapped his arms around the archangel. “Rafa,” he cried, wings fluttering in agitation.

“Sam!” Dean shouted as his brother crumpled to the ground. He stepped forward, intending to rush forward, but the archangel had at some point moved, and was now preventing him from moving with a hand on his arm. “Let go of me!” Dean shouted,  _ needing  _ to go to his brother. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“Dean, I  _ need  _ you to calm down,” Raphael said. “If your brother is still conducting all that power, then you touching him might kill one of you, and I’d like to prevent that from happening. As for why I’m here, I came to put a stop to Uriel tormenting your brother.” They looked down at Castiel and smoothed the child’s head with the other hand. “It’s okay, Cassie, I’m right here.”

“Your kind seems to think he’s like the antichrist or something. So forgive me if I don’t believe you.” Dean tugged frutily in an attempt to escape Raphael’s grip. “Let go of me!”

Raphael rolled their eyes and instead of letting go of Dean, bent to pick up the necklace he’d tossed. “Where’d you get this?” they asked.

“Sammy gave that to me. Give it back!”

As Dean, predictably, reached for the necklace, Raphael moved it out of reach. “It’s an amulet of protection. But it definitely heated up when your brother healed mine… Like it should in the presence of God.” They blinked. “It looks a lot like Mikha’s wedding band…”

“That doesn’t mean you get to take it! Give it back!” Dean moved the arm Raphael was still holding and bent forward, biting the archangel’s wrist. Their moment of surprise was enough time for Dean to jump, enclosing the amulet in his fist. “Mine,” Dean snarled as he hit the ground, retying the cord around his neck.

“You didn’t need to  _ bite  _ me, I would have given it back.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t belong to you.” Now that his arm was free, he started stalking towards Sam again. “No one, not prissy teenage angels, nor mutant turtles, are going to get between me and my baby brother.” 

“Rafa, up!” Castiel pulled on the archangel’s leg, trying to get their attention. “Uppppp!”

Somewhere behind him, Dean was aware of the archangel picking the small Castiel up off the ground and crooning something softly. But at that moment, Dean had crossed the room to Sam’s prone form and he reached out to put his hand on the small of Sam’s back. “Sam, wake up.”

The shock that knocked him backwards was like touching a high powered electric fence and being slammed into by a six foot wave of water.

__   
  


It took Dean a minute to remember how to breathe. Pain he could deal with, but the fear that his Sammy might not be okay, and getting the wind knocked out of him when he hit the ground didn’t help.

“I did tell you  _ not  _ to touch Sam, hmm? Fortunately, it seems the brunt of the power had mostly dispitated, so all you got was a minor shock.”

Dean looked up to find the archangel standing over him. It looked like Castiel was standing on their shoulders, but since he couldn’t see Raphael’s wings, he imagined that it wasn’t quite that simple. “So help me if you say ‘I told you so.’” He turned to look to where Sam was still lying on the ground. “Is Sam okay?”

“Sam is fine,” Raphael said. “Acting as a conduit for Father’s power did not harm him, but it did wear him out. However, I think he’ll come to momentarily.”

Just as Raphael said that, Sam groaned. He blinked repeatedly because he was seeing at least double and then he still thought he was seeing double even when everything was pretty clear. He blinked yet again, because even though he was definitely only seeing one Dean, the sheer number of wings he thought he was seeing was far larger than he thought he could comprehend. “Raphael?” His mouth was dry and tasted like cotton and he licked his lips trying to wake it up. “How- How many wings do you have?”

“One hundred pairs.” Raphael turned in Sam’s direction. “Can you see them?”

Sam nodded, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He bit back a wince as his head reminded him that it was not happy. “They’re beautiful,” he said. And they were.

The set of wings that Sam was sure were the main pair, were steel grey, while all the other wings were a mixture of other colors with the steel grey the only consistent color somewhere on all the wings. Some wings were varying shades of red and pink, and some wings had splashes of green, and other wings still with purple or white or yellow. And there were wings with colors Sam was incapable of naming.

“Thank you, Sam,” Raphael said, smiling. “I like them this way too.”

“Sam? What are you on about? We can’t see their wings.”

Sam shrugged. “Maybe you can’t, but… I can’t think of anything else they’d be.” He leaned back, pressing his head against the wall. He waited for Dean to do the accusatory thing again. He was so  _ tired  _ of accusations and defending himself pointlessly. He was almost glad Raphael had smote Uriel because it meant the angel couldn’t try to drive the wedge between him and Dean any further. But that didn’t mean no one else would try anything.

Castiel’s grip in Raphael’s feathers relaxed as the fledgling slipped towards sleep. Raphael smiled, pleased to know that the small angel was less stressed out. “Do either of you need anything before I head back to Heaven? I have some other matters to attend to.”

“Nope!” Dean exclaimed. “We are all good here.”

“Will I get to see you again?” Sam asked quietly. There was doubt, and a little bit of fear in his voice. He realized he was afraid of being abandoned by this angel. Dean got to count on Castiel, and a small part of him hoped to have that same kind of relationship with the archangel.

“Of course! My offer is still open.” With that, they were gone with nothing more than a hundred wingbeats.

“What was that all about?” Dean asked.

Sam sighed. “Going through withdrawal almost killed me. Raphael saved my life. And I like being able to think of them as my friend. I don’t know… I just, trust them.”

* * *

Raphael returned to Heaven and got Castiel tucked into bed with a sharp warning that the fledgling was not to be disturbed. But they couldn’t stay because there were other problems to solve. Starting with the fact that one of the fledglings had gone missing.

Raphael was an empath, which meant that they could feel the gist of emotions being felt by the people and animals around them. It was easier with humans because they were simpler to hear and to read, but that didn’t mean Raphael couldn’t tell what angels were feeling. Some were easier than others. And sometimes an angel was filled with so much emotion that it clung to everything around them. That was the easiest thing for Raphael to pick up on.

And as they circled the place Samandriel had last been seen, the feeling of absolutely terror covered everything like a sticky web so overwhelming it made the archangel nauseous. However, it also made a trail possible for Raphael to follow.

They followed it alone, archangel blade drawn in case whoever had caused so much fear in the young angel had followed him out of the city. The trail led to a cave along the edge of the city. It didn’t so much as lead under the city as beside it. There was something wrong here. The cave didn’t fit with the rest of the general ambiance of Heaven, and they couldn’t  _ remember  _ this place.

Raphael stared at the entrance with trepidation. Sami had entered it while feeling less fear than when he’d fled the city, but there was no telling what the interior held. It was an ancient cave, but Raphael was concerned because while they weren’t close enough to feel anything from deeper inside it, Sami’s recent abounding terror was preventing them from knowing what had passed through before him.

They crawled inside the cave, their own fear rising at the thought that anything had happened to the fledgling. It wasn’t an easy fit, and it took a lot of shifting of their many wings, but they were eventually able to crawl as swiftly as they could through the cave. They had long since given up thoughts of their own comfort when it came to the safety of the fledglings in their charge. As an empath though, it was difficult to push down the fear Sami had been feeling. 

For many millennia, the choir had leaned towards an emotionless state, which had meant that Raphael’s natural barrier against how much emotion it took to overwhelm them had weakened. And they hadn’t realized it. They were old, the fourth oldest being still in Heaven or on Earth, and the second oldest being still in Heaven, but that didn’t mean that they could stand entirely unimpacted by the emotions of the cave.

After a few minutes of crawling, Sami’s terror had abated, but as the archangel rounded the first corner, they had to stop, the impact of emotion from further ahead almost knocking them on their back.

There was so much fear and hurt that if they had been human, they would have thrown up, but as it was, it merely choked them and brought them to tears. 

They pressed their forehead to the rocky ground, trying to ground themself. The effort failed though, so instead they closed their eyes and stretched their grace out, exploring the cave and hoping to get a better picture of what awaited them.

Twelve grace signatures, all alive, greeted them in a larger space up ahead. Sami’s calm and tentatively content grace was the only grace signature that did not carry with it far too much pain and suffering. The grace Sami was pressed against had been there so long that Raphael could not recall the name of the Seraph who it belonged to. Only that their grief and pain was infinite, that they had been there far longer than the ten sleeping, terrified, fledglings they believed dead, though they had been trapped for so long that they had been incapable of helping. Raphael read their grace, determining that they had to know if Sami was in danger from them. But no. The seraph had caused no harm to anyone, and posed no threat to Sami, who also seemed to have no awareness of what had occurred in that room.

The ten slumbering fledglings buried in fallen rocks carried fear and pain so deep that Raphael was incapable of moving forward. The emotions were overwhelming and the only thing they were capable of doing was trying to breathe.

  
And then one of the fledglings reached for Raphael’s tendril of grace because it meant  _ safety _ and Raphael’s grace could not handle it, as they were then suddenly being flung out of the cave.

* * *

Michael’s room was large. The bed was in the back corner, barely visible underneath piles of the softest fleece bedding.

The floor was also far from visible, piles of blankets scattered randomly across it.

There was also a big padded armchair. Michael was curled up on it, various warm blankets draped through his wings. There were two blankets wrapped around his body, and one of them was unlike any of his other blankets. The other was a purple microplush blanket. 

Unlike the others, the second blanket appeared much older and more well loved. It was a soft blanket, but the bright colors covering it were garishly mismatched. There was neon greens and pinks mixed with soft blues, dark maroons, and various shades of purple. The weave was tightly knit in some places, with gaping holes in others, and yet it was clearly the most well-loved blanket in the room.

Michael leaned forward to inhale the scent of the blanket.  _ It was the only thing he owned still smelling strongly of Lucifer, after all. _ He was eating out of a gallon container of the creamiest rich vanilla vegan ice cream and there was a steaming cup of 100% dark cacao on the coffee table next to him. There were mini organic marshmallows floating around in the top of the cup, and he’d sweetened the cacao with honey. It was going to be delicious.

  
  


Raphael fell from the ceiling, crashing on the floor halfway between the door and where Michael was sitting. Tears streamed down the younger archangel’s face as they knelt on the floor of Michael’s room and wept.

“Rafa?” Michael took a moment to put the ice cream down on the table and school his emotions. Old brother intuition reminded him that Raphael was an empath and regardless of what had caused the breakdown, having uncontrolled emotion wouldn’t help the situation.

When he was sure he was calm, Michael stood and walked towards his sibling. “Rafa, can you inhale for me, please?”

Raphael felt like they were choking but they reached for the voice that was calm and steady and had for so long, once, meant safety and that everything would be okay. “Mi,” they whimpered. “So much fear. And pain.”   
  


Emotion overload, then. Michael had helped Raphael a few times when they were a child. Since Raphael was reaching for him, he took that as permission to touch, so he took Raphael’s hands with his own. His hands were cold from eating ice cream, while Raphael’s were warm and clammy. “Inhale, Rafa, please. Inhale and exhale.”

Raphael took a shuddering breath and then another, but it was more like hyperventilating.

Michael whispered soothing things, while keeping a focus on his own breathing to ensure that his emotions didn’t cause Raphael’s feeling of being overwhelmed to worsen.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Michael asked when Raphael’s breathing had almost calmed. He knew asking was a risk, but if it was important they’d have to discuss it.

“There’s a cave,” Raphael hiccupped. “There’s a cave with ten injured fledglings and a trapped seraph, and Sami wandered inside. But there was so much fear and pain and agony and grief and I couldn’t follow, but I  _ have to _ , Mikha, I have to help them.”

“Are they in immediate danger?” Michael asked.

“No. But they’re in so much  _ pain. _ ”

“You can’t help them until you’re calm.” Michael stood. “Do you want ice cream, or hot cocoa? Your pick.”

“But, Mikha, we have to help them!”

Michael rolled his eyes. “They’ve been there,  _ how long _ ? Five more minutes isn’t going to hurt anyone anymore than they already are and if you’re still emotionally compromised,  _ you  _ might hurt them.”

“The seraph’s been trapped in the cave for ten thousand years and and I can’t even remember his name! Mikha, we have to go right now! We have to! We have to!”

Raphael was on the verge of another meltdown and Michael  _ knew  _ that he had to do something because if they really had been down there that long, five more minutes for Raphael to stabilize wasn’t going to hurt anything. “ _ No. _ ”

Raphael froze. When had Mikha last used his Archangel Voice? It wasn’t the Angry Parent Voice, it was the one that was a reminder that they were  _ safe,  _ that Mikha, the Viceroy of Heaven, had  _ everything  _ under control and that it was okay for them to take a step back, that they didn’t have to freak out because Mikha was at least really good at pretending he knew what was going on. “Mi?”

Michael studied Raphael. When had his younger sibling grown so many more pairs of wings? Had he really been mentally absent for so long that he could miss that? If they’d both managed to miss the absence of their missing younger siblings for centuries and millennia, what else had gone that they should have been aware of? He couldn’t do it again, would have to do better. Things could not go back to the way they had been, it was much too lonely.

With a smirk, the eldest archangel scooped up an armful of blankets off the floor and then scattered them all over Raphael’s back and wings, but was careful to avoid any of them landing on Raphael’s head. It was easy, since the younger archangel was still lying on the floor.

“I’m your big brother, so I make the rules. And since you wouldn’t pick whether you wanted ice cream or cacao, I’m going to pick for you, and I think that we can go rescue your fledglings as soon as you eat an entire pint of ice cream.”

Raphael blinked up at their brother as Michael snapped. The snap resulted in the both of them sitting cross legged on the floor, draped with a nearly infinite number of blankets, and they were each holding a pint of vegan ice cream in one hand and a spoon in the other. Raphael’s was double chocolate chip cookie dough and Mikha’s was cinnamon roll.

“Why?” Raphael asked, even as Michael was already stuffing his face. They felt sick. They  _ didn’t deserve  _ to be sitting here eating dessert when there were still children who were supposed to be under their care suffering beneath the city because they had been so negligent. Why had they come here? They had been  _ so close  _ to freeing the angels.  _ And they’d failed. _

“ _ Eat _ ,” Michael scolded. “I need you to relax because if you don’t, you’re going to be overwhelmed as soon as you step foot in the cave again. Besides, chocolate is good for when you’re afraid. Eat the chocolate, and then we can go.”

They took a tentative bite of the vegan ice cream and their eyes widened in amazement at the flavor. It was  _ amazing. _

“See? I knew you’d like it!”

Once Raphael finished the last bite of their ice cream, Michael stood, vanishing his. “Show me the cave you found?” he asked. He attempted to sound excited, as though it was just a cave and not a place where their injured siblings were lying. A positive emotion would help Raphael more than contributing to their dread.

Raphael smiled sadly. Michael always tried  _ so hard _ . What had happened to them all after Lucifer’s fall? Michael’s excitement wasn’t real, but they could pretend. Just having supportive company would help them from becoming overwhelmed again.

“Sure! It seemed out of place. We should check it out.”


	4. Chapter 4

Michael followed Raphael as they led them to the cave at the edge of Heaven. As he stared at 

the opening, even he found it a little disconcerting. Especially as he couldn’t remember such a place and their childhoods had been spent exploring every nook and cranny.

“What do you think lies inside?” Raphael asked, trying to go deeper into the make belief that they were just exploring with their big brother.

“Let’s find out. I’ll go first.”

Michael knelt and started crawling into the cave, his own emotions beginning to cover and block the emotions Sami had left behind.

Raphael followed. They had to, and Michael was putting so much effort into helping them.

“Do you think there’s anyone in here?” Michael asked, loudly. There was no reason to sneak up on Sami and the injured seraph.

“I think so,” Raphael replied. “But it’ll be easier to tell when we get closer.”

They kept going beyond the spot where Raphael had found it necessary to stop.

“Hello?” Raphael called when they were sure they were close to the larger opening.

“Rafa!” Sami hollered back.

Michael stepped out into the larger cavern first, followed by Raphael. The eldest archangel could not see the ten injured fledglings Raphael had said were present, but he didn’t disbelieve his sibling. It was almost better they weren’t immediately visible because that meant that Sami was almost happily content for the time being.

Gadreel, Michael remembered, studying the seraph trapped by the fallen rocks and holding Sami against his chest. “Sami, could you come here? Rafa is going to set Gadreel free and we don’t want to hurt you in the process.”

“Otay!” Sami climbed out of Gadreel’s arms and crawled across the vast cavern into Michael’s embrace.

It took everything he had to ignore the few fledglings buried in the rubble between where Michael had been standing and where Gadreel was trapped.  _ They would be fine,  _ they repeated, a mantra to keep them from shifting the debris before helping the seraph that  _ was  _ visible.

“All the fledglings are alive,” they whispered as they started using their grace to incinerate the rocks that had smashed the seraph’s first pair of wings and had held him trapped for millenia. “You’re safe, I'll get you out of here and heal you.”

“A- alive? Really? All of them?” Gadreel trembled.

“Mhmm.”

Once Gadreel was free, he walked towards Michael. Raphael watched him walk back towards the other archangel and inhaled. It was time to gather the fledglings.

They closed their eyes, using a tendril of grace to determine the exact location of all ten of them. Michael was distracting Samandriel, so they were able to sift through the rocks and uncover each of the fledglings. They folded their wings around the fledglings, treating each small angel as though they were delicate glass, stabilizing them between the feathers. They would be stable until they could be moved to the infirmary.

Michael watched, making an attempt to count the pairs of wings and failing. When had he started failing to look out for the choir? Why had he been undisturbed in his moping? No one had bothered him, not Raphael, not any of the garrison leaders, and none of the infinitely curious fledglings who should have always come to bother him. He had been alone for such an indeterminable length of time that he didn’t even know how many wings Raphael had grown into.

But the one thing Michael  _ could  _ see was that there was a reason Raphael had so many wings.

How had he missed this?

Raphael finished collecting the soundly sleeping fledglings and then headed back towards their brother. Now that they were safe, the nightmares of the children had decreased intensity, replaced by the beginning of a sense of safety.

“Let's head to the infirmary,” Michael said when Raphael had returned to his side. “Gadreel? Sami? Ready to go?”

“I would like to have seen the last of this place,” Gadreel replied.

“I agree.” Raphael stepped forward and then moved to follow Michael out of the cave.

“Raphael?” Gadreel asked tentatively. “Are they all okay?”

“They’re all live. I won’t know more until I can examine them properly and they awaken. And I  _ will  _ find out what happened to them, and you.”

“Nothing happened to me.”

“Something has happened, and I will find out what it was. Don’t think I won’t.” His words were just as much a threat a they were a promise.

They made it out of the cave unhindered but the journey to the infirmary did not go so undisrupted.

There had been 5 angels in the first nest after Gabriel had been created. These five seraphs were: Joshua The Gardener, Gadreel The Guardian of Eden, Uriel The Angel of Sanctification, Anna The Nurturer, and Naomi The Angel of Peace.

Naomi, the seraph Raphael had once put in charge of the garrison of Healers known as the Rit Zien, was leaning against the wall where Michael and Raphael had slipped out of the city.

Sami whimpered from his position in Michael’s wings and Gadreel froze, fear spiking.

Raphael reached for Gadreel, making a soothing noise in the back of their throat. The fledglings in their wings also stirred restlessly, either in response to Gadreel and their own discomfort or at recognizing Naomi’s grace, which they were all close enough to feel.

Raphael considered that Uriel had been the one culpable for sending the youngest garrison of angels into Hell after the Righteous Man. But Uriel hadn’t been in charge of them in the beginning because that responsibility had belonged to Anna. But Raphael hadn’t seen or heard from her in a very long time, and they had no clue where she might be.

Gadreel had been trapped for nearing ten thousand years. But had it actually been an accident? Was there more to Anna’s disappearance than her just being gone?

And no one besides Naomi had reported to him on the actions of the Rit Zien in that same ten thousand years. What  _ had  _ they been up to?

  
  


“Michael, Raphael. It’s a surprise to see you both outside the city. I hope that these two haven’t been causing any… problems?”

Gadreel whimpered, hands tightening on Raphael’s arms. He was afraid of that voice, so terrified that she would hurt him more.

“No trouble, at least not caused by these two,” Michael said. “Though I am curious as to why you haven’t submitted any reports to me.”

“You haven’t seen them? I’ve been putting them all on the desk in your office.”

“I do wish you had submitted them in person, or told me that you’d left them on my desk. It’s been, what…. Ten thousand years since you reported to me?” He turned his head to look at Raphael, pouting. “Rafa, do you think I’ve been negligent?”

Raphael thought the answer was probably yes, but wasn’t about to say that in front of Naomi because any opinions they had about it would be only for Michael’s ears. “It is the responsibilities of the seraphs to report to you. By making this grossly incorrect assumption, Naomi is the negligent one.”

Naomi scowled. “That is not-!”

“ _ Rafa _ -” Gadreel’s terror was palpable, and so close to Raphael’s grace, the archangel could not help but try to find the source of it.

  
“ _ Show me _ .” Raphael’s True Voice echoed through Gadreel’s core. The command was not spoken aloud, but instead whispered from inside their grace. And Gadreel’s grace responded, memories of pain and agony transferring back to Raphael until it came at last to the inciting incident.

* * *

The five seraphs minus Joshua were standing in a corner of the infirmary. There was one occupied bed, an injured fledgling in a restless sleep.

“Hezekiah and the rest of their garrison should have never gone to Earth. They’re fledglings, not warriors!” Anna was scowling, and only the sleeping fledgling in the room kept her from shouting her wrath.

“They don’t need you to treat them like babies, Anna. They’re soldiers, not infants, and this was a righteous battle. If they’re not strong enough to survive the razing of a human settlement, how are they going to survive a battle against the hordes of Hell?”

“Was this battle even sanctioned by Michael? If this battle was Righteous, why wasn’t he at the front of the legion, leading us to victory?”

“They were doing training exercises and they failed! Do you want to go report this failure to Michael yourself?” Naomi asked.

“I think you should tell Michael that you made the fledglings destroy the human settlement of Jericho,” Anna answered. “It’s the truth.”

“I don’t like the future this predicts.” Gadreel shook his head. “Our jobs are to keep our siblings safe, not lead them into needless and unrighteous battle.”

“There is no room in Heaven for weakness!” Uriel growled. “Nor is there room for disobedience. You don’t want to end up like Lucifer, do you? Father has no use for disobedience.”

Gadreel swallowed. The thought of being isolated from their siblings was unfathomable, but not doing what was best for the fledglings was also wrong. What course of action would be best, then?

“Weakness and disobedience are not the same and Father said not to hurt the humans! So attacking them was wrong!”

“But they hurt dear Hezekiah.” Naomi’s voice was poison, sickly saccharine and beautiful manipulation. “They had to pay for that, didn’t they? Look at our sibling.  _ Look at them. _ ” She took a step to the side, letting Anna and Gadreel get a good look at where the fledgling was sleeping restlessly, tossing and turning and making small sounds of pain from time to time.

Anna moved, taking a step forward and then another, intending to offer comfort to the angel. As soon as she was in front of Uriel, the taller seraph grabbed her, covering her mouth with one hand and making an incision in her neck with the angel blade in his other hand. Anna thrashed, but her grace was already draining from the wound and her strength was fading.

“It’s a shame we can’t just kill you, but even in their current state, such an event as a seraph’s death might attract Raphael’s attention. No, we’ll just have to cast your mortal body down to Earth amongst those mud monkeys you care so much for,” Naomi spat, then pivoted to face Gadreel again.

Anna’s grace drifted up and away from her, and Uriel was already catching it in an open vial.

Gadreel stepped forward to do something, anything, finally reaching for his own blade, but as he stared at the limp form of his sister, Naomi had already disarmed him.

“Can’t kill you either, or cast you to Earth where you might team up with Anna. But I’ve already created the perfect chasm for your unruly self. You’ll fade in the minds of our siblings and anyone who approaches the cave will just think it’s haunted. So you can see for yourself how Lucifer is handling his isolation.”

* * *

“Rafa? Are you alright?” 

Raphael shivered. They was angry at what Naomi and Uriel had done to their siblings and they were upset that Michael had found it necessary to spend ten thousand years in his bedroom, ignoring his responsibilities to their siblings. And they were sad that there were ten fledglings in their wings who had gone unattended and neglected for so long.

What Raphael really wanted was to go find Sam and maybe ask for a hug, but that seemed kind of like a silly desire. They needed to deal with Naomi without scaring Sami or Gadreel or the fledglings.

They closed their eyes. With 200 wings, they weren’t especially mobile when it came to flying, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t or didn’t. And what they needed was to get to the infirmary and do something with Naomi.

“We are going to the infirmary. Naomi, you are coming with us, and you are demoted. The Rit Zien are no longer under your command.”

They would take care of this problem, take care of their family, and then they would take care of Sam.

With Naomi not resisting, and with Michael and Gadreel both actively helping, they all flew to an empty room in the infirmary with enough beds.

Michael had put Sami down near Gadreel and was now placing a pair of warded handcuffs on Naomi’s wrists. “I don’t think we’ve decided exactly what to do yet, but you are under arrest.”

“What for? What did  _ I  _ do?”

“I’ll write up the list of charges later,” Raphael said. “But treason is at the top of the list. Would you like to know the punishment for suspicion of treason on Earth?”

Michael led the traitorous seraph out of the room before she could think of anything to say to that.

“Sami? Why don’t you lie down with Gadreel over here?” Raphael led the way to a bed in the corner and hoped that Gadreel took the initiative to distract Sami while they situated the rest of the fledglings onto beds and determined how to help them.

“But, Rafa-!”

Gadreel picked up Sami. “Won’t you please come snuggle with me? I don’t want to be alone.”

Sami hummed, but didn’t try to escape the grasp of the seraph, allowing himself to be carried over to the bed Raphael had selected.

“I’ll take a look at your wings in a minute, okay, Gadreel? I’m just going to put the fledglings to bed first.”

With an understanding nod from the seraph, Raphael took the care to take each fledgling from the secure wrappings of their wings and gently place them each on a bed in the infirmary. Before moving on to the next, they took note of the injuries. They bandaged scrapes, set broken bones, and whispered soft comforts to them. When all of the fledglings were settled, they returned to tend Gadreel’s injuries. His wings had not been treated well, trapped under all those boulders.

They had never disliked their job of tending to their injured siblings, but Raphael’s heart ached at the state of the fledglings and seraph in the infirmary. They wanted to finish so they could go seek their own comfort, once the needs of everyone else had been met.

* * *

Heyl followed, “I’m called Chuck now, but I have never stopped answering to any variation of Dad, either,” as God led him to the place on Earth where he was living. “It’s a little crowded right now, the babies were in danger so I stepped in and I guess they’re staying here for now.”

“Why wouldn’t Michael or Raphael be looking after them? Why were they in danger in the first place? Shouldn’t they have stepped in to stop it?” Raphael had always been inclined to help all of their siblings, even overtaking the time they needed to make sure their own health was not deteriorating. Heyl couldn’t imagine any scenario in which that would have changed.

“It’s complicated, Heyl. Neither Michael or Raphael had any idea what was going on, and while some of the blame might be theirs for that reason, the seraphs who planned and executed it are the ones truly responsible and they will be dealt with severely.” Chuck turned the key in the front door and pushed it open. They both stepped inside, and Heyl shut the door behind him.

“Daddy’s home!” a child squealed from somewhere in the bowels of the house.

“Aiiiii!” The fledgling that had been hanging from the chandelier jumped, diving straight for Chuck’s head.

“Hello, Balthy,” Chuck said as the fledgling in question started gnawing on his head. “Do you remember your brother, Heyl?”

The fledgling that was about the size of a three year old looked at Heyl with a look of baffled skepticism. “You’s old.” The kid blinked. “Daddy’s home!” he hollered.

“Daddy’s home! Daddy’s home!” The words echoed around the house as child after child shouted it at one another.

“Who’er you?” one little girl asked without even waiting for an answer as she glided onto Heyl’s shoulder.

“Hold me!” “No me!” “And me!”

Heylel laughed. Sinking to the floor, he held out his arms as a show that there was more than enough room for all of them.  _ This. This was what he’d missed the most during his isolation. _

  
“ _ Heyl _ , you are welcome here. You are Loved.”


	5. Chapter 5

By the time Raphael had finished bandaging all of the wounds and healing what he could, and Michael had returned, all the fledglings had shifted into a natural sleep. Both Gadreel and Sami had fallen asleep as well, and they were exhausted.

Michael had sat quietly by the door when he’d come back and seen Raphael hard at work, as he hadn’t wanted to cause any distractions. But now that Raphael was finished, he asked, “Rafa, are you okay?”

Raphael sat down next to Michael and leaned against him. If they’d been any less exhausted they would have shrugged off their brother’s concern. But they were just so  _ tired _ . “Why did we let this happen?” they whispered. “ _ Why did this happen? Why did Father let this happen? _ ”

“I don’t know, Rafa. And you know we’re not allowed to change the past.”

“I know! I know.” Raphael pressed closer to their brother. “Father healed Castiel and gave him a more appropriate vessel. He used Samuel Winchester as a conduit. And I found Gabri. He said I should talk to Dad, not that he’d tell me where He is.”

“Gabriel’s okay?” Michael asked.

“Gabriel’s fine. Hurt that we haven’t approached him, but he’s safe.” They hesitated, seeming to brace themselves before adding, “Mikha, I want to talk to Dad. I want Heyl to come home and I want you both to be happy.”   
  


“What if Heyl hates me, for not rescuing him sooner?” Michael asked.

“I don’t know.” Raphael sighed. “I’m not sure what father’s plan was as far as creating the Winchesters, but I wish I had half of Sam’s faith that everything is going to work out.”

“You  _ like  _ him, don’t you.”   
  
“Maybe a little?”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Maybe you should take him with you when you go look for Dad. I can keep an eye here and let you know if you need to come back.”

“You’d be willing to do that? No going back to your room and sulking more with your ridiculous snacks?”

Michael snapped, a carton of double chocolate fudge vegan ice cream appearing in his hand. “Who says I can’t enjoy my snack while I’m sitting here keeping an eye on them?”

Raphael snorted. “If you cause any of the fledglings to have a sugar high, I am not helping you.”

The elder archangel pouted. “You wouldn’t help your older brother wrangle a dozen fledglings after they’ve eaten ice cream?”

“It would be your own fault.”

“Okay, okay. No ice cream for the fledglings. I can be a responsible adult while you go on a date.”

“It’s not a date!” Raphael blushed, but they were grinning. “Thank you, see you later!” And then they were gone.

* * *

Landing on the doorstep of their room at the motel the Winchesters were staying in, Raphael realized that they needed to find another way to communicate with them. While Sam praying was a good way to be contacted, it didn’t allow for them to contact Sam as well. Didn’t humans use some kind of electronic device? They’d have to ask.

They knocked.

“Hey, who’s at the door?” Dean asked from somewhere inside.

“I’ll get it, Dean.”

The door opened. “Raphael! It’s so good to see you again!” Sam stepped forward onto the porch. “Is it okay if I hug you?”

Raphael held out their arms. “Of course, Sam. You don’t need to ask. Is everything alright?”

Sam hugged the archangel. “Cas said you were having a rough day, are  _ you  _ okay?”

“It could have gone better. Wait, Cas is  _ here _ ?”

“Yeah! I guess he wanted to chill with Dean. That’s okay, right?” Sam worried his lip. What if it  _ wasn’t  _ okay for the angel that was growing on them to come hang out whenever he wanted to?

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. As long as he tells me he’s leaving Heaven,  _ which he didn’t. _ But I’ll let it pass this time because I have been dealing with some things.”

Sam didn’t let go of Raphael. “Do you want to come inside? Dean is playing a game with Cas and you’d be welcome to join in if you wanted.”

“No… that’s okay. I suppose that if Cas has been enjoying his time with Dean, then Dean is probably good to babysit whenever. Do you think Dean would be good for babysitting Cas and some other fledglings as well?”

“We’re not going to talk about the time Dean left me unsupervised at Plucky Pennywhistle. But I don’t think he would do that to fledglings. If you don’t want to come inside, was there something else you wanted?”

“Yes. My brother said that Dad is somewhere here on Earth so I was going to look for him, and I was wondering if you would like to come with me?”

Sam let go of Raphael, disbelieving the archangel’s words. “Really? You want me to come with you, looking for God?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re clearly one of his favored humans.”

“ _ Me? _ ” Sam’s lip trembled and he bent his knees to sit on the top step.

“ _ Yes you _ . I don’t know any other humans very well, should I be asking your brother for help instead?” Sam frowned and Raphael sighed, already regretting that they had said that. “ _ No _ , Sam, I didn’t mean it like that. I have no interest in asking your brother to help me look for Dad, but if you’re up for it, I would absolutely love it if you came with me.” Raphael leaned down and pressed a kiss to Sam’s cheek. “Was that okay?”

Sam nodded shyly. “I liked it, but- you’re a great celestial being, _why_ _me_?”

Raphael knelt on the step below where Sam was sitting. “Your soul is  _ beautiful _ , Sam. You’ve been through a lot in your life, but you face it so bravely and it’s truly inspiring. And I enjoy spending time with you.”

Sam was taller than Raphael, so he leaned closer, downwards, and pressed his own lips to Raphael’s. He genuinely liked Raphael, and maybe the archangel saving his life had contributed to that, but he didn’t want to think that what he was feeling were simply displaced emotions.  _ He wanted this, and he wanted to believe that he  _ could  _ have this.  _

When Sam parted to address his body’s need for air, he was slightly flushed, but he felt  _ good. _ Happy. Safe.

“Sam?! Everything alright out there?” Dean called from inside.

Sam grinned, blushing. “Everything’s fine! Hey, Dean? I’ll be back later, I’m going with Raphael!”

“What?! Why do you get to go hang out with your boyfriend while I’m babysitting the fledgling!”

“Because that’s just the way it is,” Sam mumbled. He returned his focus to his archangel. “I would love to help you look for God.”

“I’m not sure where He is exactly, but I have some ideas for places we can look. When you’re ready.” When Sam nodded that he was ready to go, Raphael took Sam’s hand and took flight.

* * *

The first place Raphael took them to was the Sistine Chapel, and God was not there. But Sam got to admire the beautiful paintings of the archangels, paintings that even great age could not dull the life from, even as their color faded and blurred. Though Raphael pointed out to him that the painting’s creators were wrong about how many archangels existed, and who they were.

“Do the cherubim really look like that?” Sam asked, looking up at the soft faced children, round with youth, with small, delicate wings decorating their backs, and large, innocent eyes. 

“Humans are wrong about that too, though that doesn’t mean they couldn’t look like that. The ranks of the choir, cherubim, seraphim, and everything in between, are actually determined by age, with the cherubim being the youngest. Castiel and the other angels his age should still be fledgling cherubim, but someone mistakenly promoted them to soldier rank. And then the seraphim are the rank below Archangels which is the only class not determined by age. There were only five of them, but two of them performed acts of treason and a third is missing because one of the treasonous acts was against her.”

Sam pressed against Raphael’s side, earning the two of them some sideways looks from others in the Church, but he didn’t care. “I hope she’s okay and that you can find her.” 

“I have no reason to believe she is dead, but she’s been on Earth for tens of thousands of years if she  _ is  _ still alive.”

“Maybe she’s really good at hiding. Since God isn’t here, where are we going next?”

* * *

Sometime after the fledglings had settled down, Heyl locked himself in Chuck’s bedroom. After ten thousand years in isolation, being surrounded by all the siblings whose childhoods it felt like he had missed was painful. The bed in the room was neatly made, bed spread folded over the regular pillows. It was normal bedding, nothing like the bedding in Heaven or the blanket he’d left behind in the cage. But that didn’t matter.

As the first tear slid down Heyl’s face, he pulled the fancy decorative pillows off the bed and hurled them onto the floor. Next he pulled the comforter, then the normal pillows, followed one by one with blankets one, two and three. And then the top sheet. And then he ripped the bottom sheet off the bed and it landed on top of all the rest of the bedding. By the time all the bedding was on the floor, Heyl was full out bawling, shoulders shaking.

He wanted his mate. He wanted  _ Mikha _ .

* * *

The next destination ended up being the top of Angel’s Landing in Zion National Park, but Raphael swore it was an accident because having so many wings did not make flying easy.

“It’s okay.” Standing upon the twisting red rock, with a soft breeze whispering across his skin, and the beginnings of the sunset soaking into the air around them, he wasn’t unhappy about the minor sidetrip. Sam kissed Raphael when the archangel would not stop apologizing for the second detour. “Let’s take a moment to admire the view,” he added after pulling away so he could admire the landscape. “Is this Angel’s Landing in Zion National Park?” A sky so blue you could practically drink it in arched over their heads, and regal cliff faces lined the valleys and canyons winding below them. 

“That could be what the humans named it. I know it by an older name, but this is where Mikha and Heyl taught me to fly even though I was afraid because I’ve always had a few more wings than the rest of my siblings, which can make it hard to maneuver properly.” Raphael smiled sadly. “But I wouldn’t change it now for anything. Having so many wings means the fledglings can feel safer tucked within them, and my wings are not as sensitive so it doesn’t hurt when they pull the feathers or climb as though my wings are their personal jungle gym.”

They stared at the canyon and the cliffs for a few more minutes. Vibrant greenery contrasted sharply with the more neutral reds of the stone, and a silver, winding ribbon of river was intricately wrapped through the canyon below them. 

“We can always come back,” Raphael reminded Sam. “But it’s time to go. I think I have narrowed down Dad’s location so there should be no more detours.” Sam looked out once more at the demanding landscape, that despite its harsh lines and the sun creeping towards the horizon overhead, or perhaps, maybe even, because of them, held so much beauty and grace.

“It’s okay if there are,” Sam quietly told them, “This is fun.” And he took Raphael’s hand and let the archangel lead him where they would.

* * *

Chuck sighed sadly as he looked at the locked door leading into his bedroom. His son ached, and there was nothing he could do about it. And Heyl wasn’t the only one aching. Surprisingly enough to him, it seemed that it was Raphael who ached the least. Mikha had broken and Gabri felt abandoned and he had wronged Heyl  _ so badly. _

But maybe there was hope. Chuck was certain that his oldest creations still had feelings for each other that if they could be convinced to let go of their fear, they could be happy. But his children were also nothing if not stubborn. So perhaps a certain pair of human brothers could help and he had an idea of just how to go about it. He just needed to do something with what Heyl had left in the cage, and exchange it with a few others.

* * *

This time they landed on the street in front of a red brick house that was two or three stories tall. There was nothing unusual about this house, though it seemed to be in better condition than the dilapidated houses in the neighborhood. There were trees and bushes in front of the windows that also blocked most of the view of the door, so it was impossible to see inside, though it would have been anyway because all the windows were covered with blackout curtains.

“Do you think this is the right place?” Sam asked. He was hesitant because while Raphael was excited to see God after so long, Sam was concerned that it wouldn’t be everything he had always hoped it would be.  _ What if he really was so tainted that he couldn’t even be loved by the God of Love he had spent his whole life believing in? _

“I’m sure it is, I can hear fledglings from here. It’s okay, Sam. He loves you and you  _ deserve  _ this. I want to introduce you, will you let me? If you really don't want to do this, I can take you back to Dean. There’s no pressure here.”

Sam took a deep steadying breath. He had been to the Sistine Chapel and Zion National Park, and the person he had a crush on and who wanted to introduce him to their dad. What did it matter that it was God? He could do this. For Raphael. “Okay. Raph,  _ thank you _ .”

“You’re welcome.” Raphael led the way up the concrete path to the stairs leading up to the door. When they were both standing in front of the door, Raphael knocked twice.

They could hear noises coming from inside the house, most of which seemed to be variations of footsteps running all around, as well as childish shouting, mostly about the fact that there was someone at the door.

The door didn’t open right away, giving Sam the opportunity to wonder whether or not they were even at the right place, and if they were, if he was just so unwelcome that no one would come at all. It was exactly as he deserved after everything he’d done. Raphael deserved so much more than-

“Sam, Sweetheart.” 

Sam’s train of thought was pushed to the back of his mind as Raphael pressed a kiss to his forehead, then to his lips. Sam opened his mouth, softening into the kiss before the thought circled back like a flock of vultures.

Sam pulled away, taking a step back and turning his head away when it seemed that Raphael might follow him.

“Sam…”

Sam swallowed. He wrapped his arms around himself as he tried to chase the anxious thoughts away. “I don’t know if I can do this. What do you want from me? I’ve slept with demons and the few humans I’ve slept with are all dead.” In his mind’s eye he could see Jess and their baby.

“Sam.”

Raphael’s voice was so soft that Sam couldn’t hold back his tears. He crouched, bracing his elbows on his knees. “I loved her, and now she and our baby are  _ gone _ .” He missed her so much, and even after three years, it still hurt as much as it had in the beginning.

“Sam, there’s nothing wrong with mourning her.” Raphael knelt beside Sam, a hand on his shoulder. “And it’s more than okay if you don’t want a sexual relationship, I don’t feel that the sexual aspect of a relationship is necessary.”

Sam looked up at Raphael, confused by the way the last phrase was said. “What?”

Raphael sighed. “I think you’ve guessed that I identify as non-binary? I’m also asexual, Sam. I don’t experience sexual desire. That doesn’t necessarily mean I would say no to someone I loved and trusted implicitly, but it isn’t necessary for me.”

Sam sniffled, but didn’t try to pull away when Raphael shifted to hug him.

“Will you come meet my family?” Raphael asked. “I don’t think Dad is home, but I’m sure this is the right place.”

“Okay.” Sam let Raphael help him up and draw him back towards the front door.

This time, when Raphael knocked, the door opened on its own. A small child about four was giggling a few feet inside. “Rafa!” she exclaimed, bouncing backwards further into the house.

“Hannah?” The expression on the archangel’s face was surprise, and Sam recalled that the name was one Cas had lamented when Raphael had interrogated Uriel.

The fledgling, Sam was sure because of the little lavender wings that he thought might feel like velvet in his fingers, smiled and stepped backwards again and again.

Motion to the edge of Sam’s peripheral vision drew his attention towards the landing above a flight of stairs where what appeared to be a teenager or young adult had started descending. The young adult appeared disheveled, exhausted but piercing blue eyes, a mess of blond hair, and pink feathers dropping to the floor as he moved. There was another fledgling sleeping in a wing, fists clenched around tufts of feathers.

“Rafa? Is that really you?” He sped up and Sam wondered who it was. He could differentiate a few sets of wings, but barely a fraction of the number Raphael had.

“Heyl.”

Sam glanced back at Raphael, not quite understanding the emotion in the tone of voice.

“Heyl,” Raphael repeated. “Are you alright?”

Heyl descended the stairs and crossed the room until he was close enough to fling himself around Raphael’s waist. Sam realized that it was likely Raphael was younger than Heyl, but at the same time, he didn’t  _ look  _ younger. But who- Heylel. Otherwise known as Lucifer.

But Sam didn’t see the fallen angel in the adult before him. A tired teen, maybe, but not someone inherently evil. And Raphael had said this was God’s house. Heyl wouldn’t be here if He hadn’t welcomed him, right?

“I don’t know, Rafa. I want Mikha.”

This (archangel?) didn’t sound like someone who wanted to destroy humanity. He sounded like a sad kid who wanted a sibling or someone else they were close to.

“MIkha wants you too, if he could pull his head from his behind.” Raphael rolled his eyes. “Mikha isn’t himself at all. He locked himself in his room with as many blankets as he could and has been eating weird vegan ice cream and vegan hot chocolate.”

Heyl’s lip quivered. He didn’t look very reassured by Raphael’s attempt at humor. If anything, he looked even more disheartened.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs distracted Sam from the archangels and his eyes widened. Recognizing the figure descending, he instinctively grasped for Raphael’s arm as a whimper escaped his clenched teeth.

“Sa-?” Raphael looked in confusion in the direction Sam was staring, concerned by their friend’s sudden overwhelming terror. Their confusion only intensified when they recognized the figure as their younger sibling. How did Sam even know Gabri?

“No,” Sam whimpered. “You can’t be here.” What if this was a trap? After all the ways the Trickster had killed Dean, he didn’t want to lose Raphael too.

“Heyl, Rafa. What’s going on down here, anyway?”

A tear slid down Sam’s face at the voice and Raphael raised an eyebrow at their brother when Sam’s trembling hand seemed to reach for the demon killing blade he kept in his belt.

Raphael reached to catch Sam’s hand with his own before Sam could draw the blade. “Sam, that’s just Gabriel. What’s the matter?”

“He killed Dean.” Sam trembled, half trying to pull away from Raphael to go for the demon killing blade while at the same time trying to pull Raphael towards him.  _ He couldn’t let the Trickster hurt them, couldn’t let whatever was between them end. _ “Over and over for more than a hundred Tuesdays, and I thought it was never going to be over.” Tears fell down Sam’s cheeks and his shoulders shook at the memories. “Don’t wanna lose you too.”

Raphael pulled away from Heyl and hugged the human they had claimed with arms and wings.

“Gabriel, go sit on the naughty step,” Heyl growled, turning around and crossing his arms.

“I’m the Archangel of Justice! I was doing my job!”

“We’ll be talking about this later,” Raphael said. “Bullying isn’t justice.” They ignored Gabriel’s protest as Heyl stepped forward to coerce Gabriel to the “naughty step”. “Sam, it’s okay. My idiot little brother isn’t going to do anything to me, and if he tries, I’ll just put him in his place. Do you want to come sit with me? I think there might some comfy chairs in the living room.”

“Okay,” Sam said, brokenly, but he didn’t make any attempt to pull away from this archangel. He just wanted to be held and he couldn’t stop crying.

Raphael shifted so Sam was still hugging him, but from the side so they could navigate them in the direction of the living room where they could both sit more comfortably. “Isn’t this better?” they asked when Sam was curled comfortably on their lap.

Sam didn’t answer, simply burying his head in the crook of Raphael’s neck, seeking comfort.

  
  


Heyl made Gabriel sit at the bottom of the stairs. “You are going to sit on the naughty step and you are going to explain to me exactly what you did, and why, to the person Rafa clearly cares a lot about.”

“I don't see why I have to sit on the naughty step,” Gabriel said, plopping down onto the hardwood stair as loudly as possible to further irritate Heylel. “You haven’t even asked for my side of the story yet.”

“Gabriel, I might not be an empath like Rafa, but even I could feel Sam’s terror the second he recognized you. Whatever you did to cause that was unacceptable.”

“I was trying to prevent the world from ending! I saw that path Sam would follow once Dean’s deal came due and I thought I could prevent him from “going off the reservation” and obviously it didn’t work.”

“You killed Dean over and over again thinking Sam would suddenly lose the attachment that would lead to a nasty spiral of revenge? You realize that Sam and Dean are soulmates, right?”

“They are?!”

“This is why you’re on the naughty step, Gabri. You were trying to enact justice for several things outside Sam’s control and in the process terrorized him. You can sit here and hope Mikha doesn’t find out.”

“But the naughty step is boring!”

“Maybe you should have thought about that sooner. I will be right back, but you  _ are  _ in trouble.”

  
  


Heyl turned around and walked back towards the living room to peak in on Sam and Raphael. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was expecting but whatever it was, it wasn’t this. Chuck was standing in the doorway into the living room wearing platypi slippers. 

Chuck put a finger to his lips before Heyl came too close, then nodded towards the living room, smiling in the direction of whatever it was that he was seeing.

Heyl approached quietly, wondering what his dad was seeing. When he glanced through the doorway, his own eyes widened and he had to cover his mouth with a hand to keep quiet.

Sam was sitting on Raphael’s lap having curled his body to fit nicely against the archangel, and he had fallen asleep, tear tracks still visible on his face. Raphael had also fallen asleep, their head resting atop Sam’s, a soft smile on their face.

How the fledglings had managed to do it without waking either the archangel or the human was a mystery, but three fledglings had tried unsuccessfully to drape a blanket over them and were instead wrapped in the blanket while lying atop the pair of wings closest to Raphael’s head.

Chuck pulled the door shut so that it was less likely for them to be disturbed.

“They look so peaceful,” Heyl whispered, dropping the hand from his face. “It feels like home.”

“I would hope that it would feel like  _ a  _ home.” The door clicked shut. “I’m glad to see that Raphael found someone they care about and who cares about them in return, and I’m happy for Sam Winchester, too. They deserve happiness.”

“They both do,” Heyl agreed.

“You put Gabri in time out?” Chuck asked.

“I wasn’t sure what else to do. He misused his powers and tried to punish for things outside Sam’s control. Sam has enough to worry about besides Gabri bringing him more pain.”

“I think it was a good call. You all deserve all the happiness.”

“But, Dad, I miss Mikha.” Heyl worried his lip. “What if I messed up so badly he doesn’t love me any more?”

“Heylel, what does the bond tell you?”

Heyl shrugged. “It’s been a long time since it didn’t feel like a reflection of the cold, and my own fears and anxieties, but I don’t know what that means. Dad, I’m scared.”

Chuck hugged His son. “It’ll all be okay. You have good instincts, what are they telling you?”

“That it’s not time to go back yet, but I shouldn’t despair? I don’t understand.”

“I can’t give you all the answers, Heyl, but I think you should trust your instincts and not worry about not being ready to go back to Heaven. You’ll go when you’re ready.”

“Thank you.”

Chuck pulled back and rubbed Heyl’s head affectionately. “You’re welcome. Now go check on Gabriel and make sure he’s not creating too much chaos. And maybe cut him a little bit of slack. He doesn’t remember you quite as well as he thinks he does. He wasn’t exactly lying about thinking you would destroy the world.”

“But I’d never! I never wished any actual harm on anyone,  _ ever _ .”

Chuck nodded. “I know that. But I don’t think Gabri remembers.”

“I’ll go check on him,” Heyl said and headed in that direction.

Despite the number of fledglings in the house, it was concerningly quiet in the direction of the naughty stair. Heyl remembered that you always had to be careful if you couldn’t hear Gabriel because it meant that something wild was about to go down.

Why had Mikha let him miss out on what could have been the best part of his siblings’ childhoods? Sure, he’d only missed the youngest fledglings’ toddler years, but Raphael was falling in love and he’d missed so much up to that point.

Gabriel was still on the naughty step, but he wasn’t alone. There was a fledgling sitting next to him, leaning against him. And Heyl knew who the fledgling was. Balthazar. The one fledgling Heyl considered to be the most like Gabriel, at least in the sense of getting into trouble.

They weren’t plotting though, they were just sitting quietly on the stair and Gabriel was petting Balthazar, who was almost purring sleepily.

“Is it naptime?” Heyl asked quietly, smiling.

Gabriel glared at Heyl, his hand tightening on Balthazar.

“No naps!” Balthazar exclaimed. “Naughty step is boring.”

“Have you learned your lesson, Gabriel?”

“Yeah. I don’t get to use my rank as an excuse to be a bully.”

“Okay. You and Balthy can go play, or something. But you owe Sam an honest apology.”

“I’ll apologize,” Gabriel promised. “Come on, Balthy, let’s go play upstairs!” He and the fledgling bounded upstairs.

Heylel shook his head in fond exasperation at the shenanigans. Some things never changed. And his heart ached, because Mikha hadn’t seen this yet and was missing out.


	6. Chapter 6

Once Gadreel had awoken and promised that he could keep an eye on the sleeping fledglings, Michael left the infirmary and headed back to his room. He wasn’t planning on staying long, not when there was so much to be done, but he was pretty sure that something was wrong in there, and he was feeling a little disjointed.

He could feel all of the other archangels on Earth, but he  _ knew  _ that the last seal hadn't broken, so he didn’t quite understand how Heyl could be on Earth. Michael wanted to go to his mate, but he was worried. What if Heyl couldn’t forgive him for doing nothing about the cage?

He opened the door to his bedroom. The desire he’d had for so long for more blankets had lessened, but  _ something was missing.  _ His favorite blanket, the one Heylel had  _ made  _ for him, was gone. He could track it by the grace signature, but it wasn’t in Heaven and he already had a pretty good guess where it was. Had Heyl taken it back because he was so mad that he had decided Mikha didn’t deserve it anymore?

Taking stock of his room, he also found that the purple microplush blanket was missing. But he wasn’t going to track that one either because it would be an entire can of worms he didn’t want to open.

Michael returned to the infirmary, a fuzzy blanket in hand. The fledglings were still napping, so he sat on the floor. Reaching for the peaceful graces of Rafa, Gabri, and Heyl, Michael wept.

Raphael awoke to find Sam still slumbering in their lap. They could feel that God had returned and that both Heyl and Gabri were somewhere in the house.

“Dad?” they whispered, trying not to awaken Sam while still reaching for the parent they had missed more than words.

“I’m right here, Rafa.” The door edged open until the Celestial Being was able to walk into the room. “It’s okay, Rafa, I’m right here.”

Their lip quivered and tears pooled in their eyes. They wanted God to hug them and hold them and maybe fix Heaven so they didn’t have to.

Chuck hugged His child, careful to avoid disturbing the human sleeping in their arms. “Everything will work out, Rafa. It’s okay.”

Raphael sobbed and it was okay because they were loved and they were being held by Dad.

  
  


Sam stirred. “Rafa?”

“I’m right here, Sam. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Sam shook his head. “It’s alright. I think I was ready to wake up. Are you alright?”

Raphael wiped at the dried tear tracks on their face. “I’m good, I think. Dad stepped in for a little while. You’re sure we didn’t wake you?”

Sam shifted and leaned upward to kiss the archangel on the cheek. “You didn’t wake me, I promise. I love you, are you okay?”

Raphael kissed Sam’s forehead. “I haven’t seen Dad in a very long time. And it’s nice, I guess, to see Him again. But what if he leaves us again when something else goes wrong?” Their lip quivered and they pulled Sam close. “I was so excited to find Dad again and now I don’t even know what I want from Him. I am an adult, I shouldn’t need or want Him to step in and fix everything, but everyone is so broken, Sam, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

Sam felt Raphael’s tears and the hunter did the only thing he could think of. He wrapped his arms up and around Raphael. His fingers came into contact with some feathers, but that wasn’t his goal. “I’m sorry, Rafa.”

“I think Gabri is happy, and if Mikha would stop being an idiot, Heyl would be happy too, but I spent so long trying to take care of all the fledglings all by myself and it was so difficult, and even now some of them are in so much pain because I failed.”

“I haven’t met Him yet, but I think being here means that you’ll be able to talk to him. If He’s started repairing his relationship with Heyl, maybe that means it’s not too late to fix things?”

“I wish I had your optimism, Sam. I really do.” Raphael tightened his hold of Sam. “Were you ever able to repair your relationship with your dad?”

“My father was a racist, homophobic bastard whose last words to my older brother was a reminder that there would come a time when Dean would have to make the choice to kill me or save me. And I don’t think I would necessarily  _ want  _ to repair that relationship if the opportunity had ever presented itself. But that has nothing to do with your relationship with  _ your  _ Dad and how you feel is important.” Sam kissed Raphael again. “What do  _ you  _ want?”

“I want you to come meet my Dad.”

“Right now?”

“If you’re up for it.”

Sam kissed Raphael’s shoulder.

They stood and Raphael led the way out of the living room and back into the foyer.

No one was in the other room and the noise of fledglings sounded far away.

“Hey, Dad?” Raphael called out. “I want to introduce you to Sam.”

The stairs creaked and Sam turned to see a brown haired man in his early 40’s. He looked familiar, and then Sam realized  _ why _ . “Father Chuck!”

“Hello again, Sam,” Chuck said. “I go by Chuck Shurley here.” God held out a hand, as though he intended to shake Sam’s hand..

Sam shook the hand, almost in awe. Chuck’s hand was warm and he felt the same warm feeling he’d felt when Castiel’s wings had been healed.  _ He was accepted by the one Being he’d always wished he could be accepted by.  _ Forgetting himself, he let go of the hand and embraced the deity.

“Hello there, Child,” Chuck repeated, resting his hands loosely on Sam’s back after gently ruffling Sam’s head. “How are you feeling?”

Sam shrugged. He felt a little disoriented but at the same time, he was really happy that Raphael had invited him.

“Rafa? Are you feeling better?”

“I don’t know,” they admitted. “I’m glad you’re here. And I’m glad that Gabri and Heyl are here too.”

“But?”

Sam recognized from Chuck’s tone of voice that He was encouraging Raphael to bring up the other shoe and to let it drop. And Raphael had only minutes before told Sam about their reservations. The same ones Chuck was encouraging Raphael to speak of.

“I’m frightened that you’re going to leave us alone again,” Raphael whispered. “You left once without a word. What is keeping you from leaving again?”

“Leaving Heaven was one of the two worst mistakes I’ve ever made. And you, Mikha, and Heyl will have to decide for yourselves if you want me to come back, but if you decide you don’t, I will respect that decision.”

“I do want you to come back.” A whimper caught in Raphael’s voice. “More than I’ve wanted almost anything, but it  _ hurts _ .”

“I’m sorry, Rafa. I thought distance would teach Mikha to make his own decisions and I only alienated all of you.”

Raphael approached and as they did so, Chuck held an arm out so that there was room to hold them next to Sam. “I’m upset,” they said. “But I think I’ll be able to forgive you eventually. Especially if Mikha recovers. But I  _ never  _ want to see any of my siblings so broken  _ ever again _ .”

“I can’t promise what the future will hold, but I agree. I don’t like seeing my children so hurt.”

It wasn’t a perfect solution, but Raphael had not been expecting one. There was no such thing. If His words could be trusted, then at the very least, it might be starting to look up. That was all they wanted right now. This was good enough because it had to be.

* * *

Dean Winchester was not very happy and he couldn’t say as much because it wasn’t the fledglings’ faults.

Heyl had managed to wrap himself in all the bedding in Chuck’s house while Sam and Rafa were sleeping. But instead of leaving him alone, the fledglings were all determined that he  _ must  _ play with them. He didn’t want to play with them, and he didn’t want them to wake Sam and Rafa, so he decided to take them on a field trip (sanctioned and encouraged by God Himself, there was no kidnapping). Since there was another fledgling on Earth, one Castiel, Heyl decided that whatever was entertaining him would be suitable for entertaining all the rest of the fledglings. Sans Gabriel and Balthazar who were getting into who knew how much trouble and didn’t want to leave Chuck’s house. Which was for the best given that Gabriel still owed Sam Winchester one apology.

The fledglings were excited as soon as they saw Dean. Many of them were children Dean was sure he had seen die in Hell. So he was glad they were alive, but also worried because what if this was some kind of trick or trap?

He had no idea who the Blanket Monster who was probably about Sam’s age was, except that he laid down on the motel couch and was asleep in moments. The (kid?) looked so worn out that Dean didn’t really want to wake him, even if he  _ was  _ the reason all the fledglings were there.

So Dean did the only thing he could do. He sat down on the floor and let the kids surround him. When things were a little calmer, he’d call Sam.

* * *

Sam, Raphael, and Chuck had sat down at the small circular table in the kitchen.

“I let Heyl out of the cage. It was too little too late, but I made a mistake in thinking that Mikha would let him out in a  _ timely  _ manner.”

“What’s going to happen to the Cage now?”

“I noticed two seraphs intentionally terrorizing and putting the fledglings in outright danger. They’ve earned some punishment, though I am hesitant to put them in a time out like Heyl’s.”

“Was the Cage a torturing place?” Raphael did not want to ask, but he felt it was necessary to better understand their brother’s experiences.

“Heyl’s punishment was not a cage or torture, Rafa. It was merely isolation in a room, and I did not realize that so much time had passed for him because  _ I  _ made a mistake. It was supposed to be the equivalent of something like putting a child in time out for fifteen minutes and it  _ won’t  _ happen again.”

“And you saved all of the fledglings Uriel sent to Hell? That’s why they’re here?”

“Yep! I saved them all. I didn’t want to send them back until after you and Mikha had sorted everything out, and they like it here.”

“That’s good.”

There was a tapping on the door frame into the kitchen. Turning their heads, they all saw Gabriel standing in the doorway.

Sam’s breath hitched. The Trickster wasn’t here to hurt him, Raphael had promised. He wanted to believe it, but Dean had died more than a hundred times.

“Gabriel,” Raphael greeted coldly, reaching for Sam’s hand. They were glad to see their younger sibling healthy and well, but Sam’s fear was so obvious it hurt.

“I came to apologize to Sam,” Gabriel said. “Are you going to stop me, Rafa?”

“Not if you’re sincere.”

Gabriel’s eyes rolled. “Sam, I wanted to apologize for putting you through the time loop and killing Dean over and over again. It was a mistake and it won’t happen again.”

“It’d better not!”

Sam raised the hand Raphael wasn’t holding and chewed on the edge of his thumbnail. He was upset and seeing Gabriel in this space that, according to Raphael, was supposed to be safe, was hard. But at the same time, he understood at least some of  _ why  _ Gabriel had done it. “I wish you had simply explained the future you foresaw instead of killing my brother more than a hundred times. I still have nightmares of Dean dying.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Gabby,” Chuck said. “Why don’t you come sit?”

Sam blinked at the nickname and took the opportunity to study the archangel. Earlier, Gabriel had been wearing a loose t-shirt. Now he was wearing a form fitting blouse and a simple silver bracelet and Sam could see a touch of makeup. Sam blinked again, but it didn’t change.

If Raphael identified as non-binary and there was nothing wrong with Gabriel wearing whatever was comfortable without worrying about strict masculinity, did that mean there was maybe nothing wrong with his own secret he had held tight for years?

“Are you alright, Sam?” Raphael asked.

“Yeah…” Sam considered what this  _ meant _ . “Raph, can we go?”

“If you’re ready to go, I don’t see why not. Dad?”

“You’re both welcome to come and go as you please, and I would be happy to show you out. If you’d wait a minute, I had something I was hoping you could give to your brother, Sam?”

“Uh, sure.”

Chuck got up and walked away, leaving the two archangels and Sam sitting at the table in slightly awkward silence.

As soon as Chuck left the room, Sam’s phone rang.

With a look of confusion, Sam pulled the device out of his pocket and answered it. “Hello?”

“_Sam!_ _Hey, when you’re not busy can you get back here? There’s a- uh- _Situation_.”_

“Uh, sure?” Sam answered. “We were going to head back in a few minutes, what’s up?”

“ _ I’ll tell you when you get back here.” _ The phone clicked.

Sam blinked at the phone. What kind of situation could Dean have possibly gotten himself into? They’d only been gone like a few hours at most.

“Here it is,” Chuck said, reentering the kitchen. He was holding a small white box.

“Thank you so much,” Sam said, honestly. “We um, we need to go. My brother called.”

He nodded. “I know.”

* * *

Sam wasn’t quite sure what kind of trouble he was expecting when Raphael flew him back into the motel, but it hadn’t been this.

There were fledglings  _ everywhere  _ and Heyl was sound asleep on the couch wrapped in far more blankets than most people owned. But there was one blanket he held tightly in his fists and had subconsciously rubbed against his face while he slept. This one was a purple microplush blanket and there was nothing in the world that could have separated him from this blanket.

“Hey, Dean? What’s the emergency?” Sam kept his voice quiet, hoping to keep from waking Heyl who clearly needed to be sleeping.

Dean walked into view holding a cup of something Sam was praying was coffee. “Does it not seem odd to you that there are fledglings everywhere? Sam, I watched most of them  _ d-i-e. _ ”

Sam pushed down the amusement he found at Dean spelling out the word, but appreciated it, although he didn’t actually know if the fledglings could spell or not.

“Dad saved them so they’ve mostly been hanging around his house on Earth,” Raphael explained. “I’m not sure why Heyl brought them by, but he must have decided it was time for a playdate.”

“I don’t mind hanging out with them, but I’d like more notice in the future, if that’s possible.” Dean pointed at the sleeping Heyl. “Also, who is that?”

“That’s my older brother, Heyl. If he’s not in the way, can you let him sleep? He’s avoiding his mate and it’s not healthy but I don’t have any ideas.”   
  
“Sure, why not.” Dean scowled then shook his head. “Can you just take the fledglings home? It’s been a day.”

“I can. See you later, Sam?”

Sam nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face, and a moment later Raphael and all the fledglings were gone, leaving on Sam, Dean, and the sleeping Heyl. “Hey, Dean? Since you had a long day, why don’t you go out and have some fun or something? I can hold down the fort here.”

“If you want.”

Once Dean was safely out the door, Sam fetched his laptop and opened a Google search. “Gender identity non-binary.” 

* * *

Dean hadn’t wanted to leave the motel room. He’d wanted to stay with Sam, and whoever had appeared on their couch, and make sure that his younger brother was okay after whatever had happened earlier that afternoon. Whatever it was, it had Sam shaken, and if he wanted time alone to sort through it, Dean was going to give it to him. 

If he was going to go out, he might as well go to the bar for a beer. Sam might get suspicious if he found some other way to kill time instead, and seeming to meet his dad’s expectations and making Sam think nothing had changed was important. 

There was a tavern a few miles away, so Dean sat at the bar and ordered a beer. He was just going to sit and drink his beer and try to forget about the  _ children  _ whose deaths he’d watched in Hell and the fact that they were apparently all  _ alive,  _ probably thanks to a deity he didn’t even believe in.

After the day Dean had had, what he really wanted was some physical contact with maybe a tight hug in all the right places. In the past he’d sometimes looked to hook-ups to satisfy that desire. But he also wasn’t in the mood to feel like sex was going to be an obligation.

There was a game of pool going on so he watched for lack of anything else to do. He didn’t feel inclined towards hustling, but there wasn’t anything wrong with watching a few rounds.

“Hello, handsome.”

Dean turned to find a young woman standing in front of him and she touched his shoulder uninvited before he could respond. She was a tall blonde wearing a black faux leather corset that left  _ absolutely nothing  _ to the imagination and a very short black mini skirt. 

“Don’t touch me,” Dean said, visibly uncomfortable.

“You look like you could stand to unwind a bit, maybe with a firm hand.” She pulled her hand away and turned to pace a few steps around him.

“I’m not interested in what you’re selling.” Dean reached for his beer and sipped from it.

Out of the corner of his eye there was movement. Turning, Dean saw a well dressed brunette man walking in their direction.

The man was wearing a white button down shirt, black dress pants, and black cowboy boots. Dean usually found western apparel aesthetically appealing, but now he was just uncomfortable.

Dean quirked an eyebrow at him, but didn’t say anything.

The guy approached until he was standing about a foot away. “Hey, there.” It was pretty clear he was addressing Dean. “She not your type?”

Dean’s grip on the bottle tightened. “I’m not interested in any hook-ups. I want to enjoy my beer and maybe watch a game of pool.”

The guy looked towards the woman, a glint in his eye that Dean didn’t particularly like the look of. “You always pick the mouthy ones.”

“It’s so much fun when they let themselves submit to the pleasure.”

Dean’s nose crinkled and he stood, reaching for his wallet so he could pay for the beer and  _ leave _ . “I’m not about to judge what the two of you get up to with other consenting adults behind closed doors. But which part of  _ I’m not interested _ are you not understanding?”

He turned around to put the bottle of beer on the table and put some cash on the table next to it, already nodding to the bartender.

“The part where you might be playing hard to get.”

The voice in his ear was supposed to be seductive, but Dean jumped back around, crashing into brunette and feeling the other’s erection against his thigh.  _ Nope. This was not okay. _

“I’m not playing hard to get,” Dean snarled. “I’m done here.” He withdrew the keys to the impala from his pocket and stalked purposefully out of the bar before they could say anything else.

* * *

Dean was in a foul mood when he arrived back at the motel. He’d just wanted to chill and he hadn’t even been able to do that.

The only light in the room when he stepped inside was from Sam’s laptop. Heyl was still asleep on the couch and the light coming from underneath the door to the bathroom suggested that was where Sam was.

He was drawn to the laptop screen because it was facing towards him and he was curious what Sam had been researching. Maybe it was none of his business, but he  _ had to know _ .

He skimmed the webpage, not really reading it, but as he scrolled down, one particular bolded section stuck out. “Yes. Asexual individuals can enjoy sex.”

* * *

Sam swallowed thickly as soon as he heard the door to the motel room open. The research he’d been doing had been useful to him, but he wasn’t ready to talk to anyone else about it yet, especially not to Dean. And probably not Raph, at least not until he knew what he wanted.

He looked down at the jar of clear nail polish he’d found in one of the drawers. He wanted to apply it, but he couldn’t do it here. Not where Dean could smell it and not if he didn’t know whether or not he’d even like it.

After slipping the polish into a drawer, he finally opened the door to see what Dean was getting up to. The silence was concerning.

As was the expression on his brother’s face when he opened the door. It was concerning and he didn’t like it. “Dean? Are you okay?” He knew what he’d been researching, but he wasn’t sure he knew why it had affected his older brother.

Dean looked over. There were a few tears sliding down his face. “I didn’t know- I didn’t know it could apply to me.”

Sam walked towards his brother. He knew what Dean was talking about, he’d looked it up out of curiosity and for better understanding Raphael. That didn’t make it any easier to know what to say to his brother that a hug wouldn’t.

They were valid.


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning found Heyl still sleeping on the couch and both Winchesters in the same bed because Sam hadn’t wanted to leave his distressed brother alone on the other side of the room and Dean hadn’t wanted to be alone.

“I’m going for a run,” Sam said on his way to the bathroom to fetch the nail polish. “Need anything?”

“Nah, thanks.”

Sam hid the polish in his pocket and decided to find a park. He wasn’t sure what he wanted, but now that he had the polish, he really really wanted to wear it. And he was glad it was clear because  _ he  _ would know he was wearing it and no one else would, and maybe for right now that would be enough to scratch the itch he’d always tried to tap down on.

It was early enough in the morning that there was no one at the park so Sam found a tree to sit under. He opened the bottle of nail polish with trepidation. How would he know how to apply it or how much to use? Of if this was even what he needed?

The polish smelled terrible, but Sam remembered that much from the few times Jess had painted her nails.

He used too much and it was goopy and he broke a nail trying to scrape it off before the bottle tipped over and spilt all over his lap.

Sam bit his lip. This was supposed to help him accept this part of himself. His finger with the broken nail hurt and he didn’t like how it looked.

He put the finger in his mouth intending tear it along the quick to fix it. But all he could taste was blood and chemicals.

“Raphael,” he whimpered, trying to spit the bad taste from his mouth.

“Oh, Sam.” The voice was calm and quiet and soft.

Sam drew his knees up, trying to hide his face as tears slid down it. His partner was so confident about themself and here he was, unable to even paint his own nails properly.

A wing settled around Sam’s shoulder as the archangel picked up the fallen nail polish and started cleaning up the mess. “Do you want to talk about what’s wrong?”

“I don’t think I’m cis-gender,” Sam said. “And John was so homophobic that I tried to convince myself that part of me doesn’t exist,  _ but it does _ .”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Sam. Humans should be true to themselves, and you should do what makes you most comfortable with yourself.”

The archangel waited a moment, but Sam didn’t say anything. “Would you like me to do your nails for you? I’ve had a lot of practice.”

Sam shrugged, then glanced at the mess of his nails, including the finger that was still bleeding. Anything would be better than this,  _ right _ ?

“Could you?”

“Absolutely.” A second later, Raphael was holding in their hand an object that Sam couldn’t identify. It looked like a piece of sandpaper in the shape of a popsicle stick. “This is a fingernail file.”

Sam could guess what it was for from the name, and watched in curiosity as Raphael picked one of his fingers on the hand that wasn’t bleeding. The glob of polish vanished and the archangel slowly ran the board against the nail.

Raphael carefully clipped and smoothed each of Sam’s nails. Sam hadn’t calmed down yet, but the repetitive motion was soothing. When the archangel came to the injured finger, he healed the damage and repaired the nail to a perfect smoothness so as to keep Sam from freaking out about it.

“May I use this polish?” Raphael held up a bottle of clear matte nail polish. “It’s my favorite for when I want to paint my nails but don’t want it to be very noticeable.”

Sam nodded. “I’d like that.”

Raphael painted Sam’s nails and made sure the polish dried as soon as they were done applying it to a finger. Sam had calmed down ad even seemed to be enjoying the sensations of the brush against his fingers.

“Okay, Sam. I think they’re done.” Raphael put the nail polish and leaned back so Sam could take the opportunity to examine his nails.

Sam bit his lip, unable to hold back the few tears pooling in his eyes. As he studied the polish on his nails,  _ desperately wanted to touch but not daring to,  _ he recognized he’d wanted this  _ so badly _ .

Raphael leaned forward, wrapping their arms around Sam while still leaving enough space between them for Sam to see his fingers. “You can touch if you want to, the polish is dry.”

Still biting his lip, because he remembered Jess’ polish and how it had taken hours and hours to be safe to touch, he ran his thumbs over the backs of his nails and gasped. The polish had left his nails with a smooth plastic like texture and he absolutely loved it. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you so much.”

The archangel held their human as Sam cried. They had never been defined by gender, but they understood Sam’s need and desire to redefine his own identity.

* * *

Dean was curious about the box on the table. Sam had left it on the table the night before without a word as to where it had come from or who it was for or what was inside it. After the revelation that he was asexual, it had seemed a lot less important, but now that he was alone in the motel with a still slumbering Heyl, curiosity got the better of him.

He had the top of the box off before he realized that the lid had his name on it, but that made him feel even less guilty about not waiting. Not that there had been any guilt to start with because there had never been anything stopping him from looking into whatever he wanted to.

The only item in the box was a large fabric item that he guessed was a blanket. It was multi-colored and appeared to be crafted with some kind of soft yarn

Taking the blanket out of the box, he found that it was one of the softest things he’d ever touched. The colors left something to be desired, with the garish blend of colors in places, but someone had put in a lot of work into creating it. And it was clearly well loved.

There was a muffled whimper from the couch. Looking over, Dean found that the sleeping individual was just starting to wake up, and he looked sad.

Dean got up, still holding the blanket, and walked towards the guest. “Are you okay?” he asked. He tried to speak gently enough that he wouldn't wake him if he wasn’t ready to wake up.

“Mikha?” The blonde opened his eyes and they widened, but only long enough to register that Dean was not Mikha. Then he frowned. “You’re not Mikha.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean said.

“Can I hug you?” Heyl asked. “I know you’re not my mate, but you remind me of him and you’re holding his blanket and I miss him  _ so much _ .” His eyes were wet and he looked small encased in the sheer number of blankets.

“Sure.” Dean sat on the edge of the couch and bent to hug the blanket encased archangel that was probably trying not to cry.

* * *

Sam came back to the motel to find Dean sleeping on the couch with his head in Heyl’s lap with the archangel petting the human. There was a blanket on Dean, but Sam had no idea where the hideous thing had come from.

“Are you alright, Heyl?” Sam kept his voice low so as not to wake his brother.

Heyl shrugged. “I miss Mikha.”

Sam had no idea what to say to that. What was there to say? He was really close to Dean and loved Raphael and had married Jess, but he hadn’t been so close to a soul mate only to spend thousands of years separated from them.

Heyl shifted carefully closer to Dean, making sure to disturb his head as little as possible while also making room on the couch for sam to sit. He could smell the nail polish and it was distinct enough that he knew the polish was from Rafa’s supply.

He and Mikha had painted their own nails before ever teaching Rafa how to do the same. He didn’t say anything though because he didn’t want to risk making Sam feel self conscious about it.

Dean blinked and sat up as Sam sat down. “What’s that smell?” he asked.

Sam swallowed but chose not to speak. He wasn’t ready to tell Dean about this thing or try to explain why he had decided to paint his nails. He did like it, but Dean didn’t get to control him.

“It smells like nail polish.” Dean considered. “Sam, did you finally go for it?”

“I did,” Sam admitted quietly. “And I like it.”

Dean nodded. “I’m glad.”

Sam shifted uncomfortably because of anything he could have anticipated his brother saying, it wasn’t this. At some point there had become a time when he had almost feared from Dean the same actions of homophobia and toxic masculinity that John had been well known for. He’d been wrong.

Dean sighed. “Sam,  _ I know _ . And I never said anything because I wanted you to be comfortable enough to tell me. And then I guess you were so different after Stanford that I didn’t know what you wanted or needed, so I didn’t say a word.”

If he hadn’t been expecting his brother to have bene happy about the polish, Sam really hadn’t been expecting Dean to have any idea about the secret he had always tried to keep closest to his heart.

Sam swallowed again. “You  _ know _ .”

Dean nodded. “When you were a kid, maybe five, you started asking me all these questions. Like why you had to use the men’s bathroom and why you couldn’t wear makeup like the older girls. Do you remember stealing a bottle of nail polish from a gym locker?”

“Dad found out. That was the angriest I’ve  _ ever  _ seen him.”

“I didn’t want to see you get hurt if Dad found out about anything else and I didn’t know how to help.”

Sam could understand that. Dean had always gone above and beyond when it came to making sure that he wouldn’t go hungry or have been hurt if there was anything Dean could do to prevent it.

He knew Dean’s deepest secret too. But that wasn’t something to discuss. Not in front of Heyl, preferably not at all.

“Thanks, Dean.” Sam slumped against Heyl. He hadn’t even eaten breakfast yet and he already felt like taking a nap.

“Sam, it’s time for you to start deciding for yourself what you want and who you are.”

  
Heyl’s words were intended to comfort, but Sam didn’t really know what to do with them.  _ Who was he, and what did he want? _

* * *

Raphael came into the motel room to find Sam, Dean, and Heyl napping on the couch. Heyl was in the middle, Dean’s head on his lap again, and Sam was slouched against him.

Sam looked peaceful and Raphael suspected that their leaving of the nail polish scent had ended with the desired result.

They approached quietly, and Sam blinked sleepily up at him.

Raphael was about to apologize for waking him when Sam leaned away from Heyl and stood up before walking towards him.

“Sam?”

Sam hugged Raphael. “I love you. Thank you for painting my nails, thank you for showing me that it’s okay for me to be myself.”

“You’re welcome, Sam. It’s absolutely okay for you to be yourself. For anyone to tell you otherwise is unacceptable.”

“Still,  _ thank you _ .”

“Do you want to get out of here and let them sleep?” Raphael whispered.

“Absolutely.”

_   
Heyl pretended to be sleeping because he didn’t want to interrupt his sibling’s moment. He was glad to see that Rafa was happy. However, he couldn’t help but cast his thoughts to his own mate.  _ “I love you, I miss you, I want to see you again.” _ _

* * *

Mikha had dozed off on the floor of the infirmary, wrapped in a piece of fabric that smelled of his mate. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew where it came from. He  _ knew _ it had been with Heyl in the cage for millenia. It felt like neither a happy Heyl nor a vindictive one. The blanket Heyl had made for him had been a very happy and excited Heyl.

_ _

This was from a very sad and lonely Heyl who felt abandoned and alone. A Heyl whose desire for ever more blankets and pillows had carried through the mate bond. A bond Mikha had believed to have faded.  _ But it hadn’t. _ No.

_ _

Even now, he could still feel it pulsating with a desire for comfort and connection. But most of all, Heyl was requesting a reaffirmation of love.

_ _

And he had no idea how to give it.

_ _

_ “I love you, I miss you, I want to see you again.” _

_ _

No, he was lying to himself. He knew exactly what he needed to do.

Dean woke up when the couch tipped over and he hit the ground. At first he thought Heyl had knocked him onto the floor because he was disgusted with him, but no.

_ _

Heyl was also on his back on the floor, but that was because someone slightly larger was straddling him in a hug that would have strangled a human. A moment later and the two of them were making out on the floor.

_ _

The person kissing Heyl was a brown haired guy who looked to be about the same age as Heyl and Dean’s only guess was that this must have been the Mikha that Heyl had been pining over and while he was really glad that they were getting their shit figured out, he really hoped they didn’t start what he thought they were about to start.

_ _   
Before any stripping of clothing could actually occur, both archangels froze. With a shared whisper of, “ _ Anna _ ,” they were gone. _ _


	8. Chapter 8

Anna was  _ terrified. _ She knew who and what she was, a fallen angel with barely enough grace to sustain her body for the ten thousand years she’d been on Earth. And she had never stopped being able to hear the choir, though it had been  _ much  _ louder when the fledgling called Castiel had shouted loudly to absolutely everyone that “Dean Winchester is Saved!” which was a Very Fledgling thing to shout. Though that only begged questions like, why was a fledgling doing the saving of a soul  _ in Hell _ ?

However, there were bigger problems to handle first. Like why the demonic equivalent of an angel blade was being held to her neck. There weren’t very many of them existence, and most of them belonged to the highest ranking demons. And at first glance, the demon called Ruby  _ wasn’t  _ high ranking. The knife in her hand revealed otherwise, of course, but at first glance she  _ looked  _ like the lowest of the low.

“I said ‘Pray’,  _ Angelic Scum _ .”

The knife was dragged harder against her sternum and she felt the blood beginning to well against the scratch along her neck. It hurt more than a light scratch should, and it burned more than much had in a long time.

“Why?” she asked, aiming for the snarkiest tone she could. “If you don’t kill me first, they’ll just finish me off. I’m an abomination, remember?”  _ I’m sorry,  _ she thought. Self-deprecation wasn’t  _ exactly  _ a sin, but she’d tried really hard to make the most of her situation and she was  _ not  _ in the habit of thinking of herself as an abomination.

“I have learned the art of torture from the best of the best, you do  _ not  _ want to test me.” The knife dug deeper. “Now pray!”

Anna had been careful to  _ not pray _ for all her time on Earth because she had not wanted to attract celestial attention for fear that Uriel or Naomi would come and finish what they started. But clearly Ruby was trying to use her as bait. Even so, there was no way she could guarantee that it was Naomi or Uriel who came and not an innocent. Or even that anyone would come at all.

“Father-”

“No, no, no! That isn’t right! Don’t they teach Catholic children how to pray anymore? Do an invocation or something.”

“You seem convinced that there will be answer. What will you do if the Archangels responded to smite me themselves?”

“I will kill them!”

“Um…. Are you sure?” As far as Anna knew, the very special demonic blades would do damage to lower tier angels, but would do very little harm to an archangel, as they were only susceptible to the more powerful archangel blade, but even then most wounds by one would not have been lethal to an archangel. And their own would be harmless.

“Don’t question me! Pray!”

There was one thing Anna wanted more than anything else, more even than going back to Heaven. She wanted there to be Peace in Heaven. A peace that meant there weren’t fledglings being sent to fetch wayward souls from Hell, or untreated injuries, or seraphs that made everyone miserable. She didn’t care about going home for herself, but she was pretty sure that Heaven had first fallen apart when Heylel had been sent away. Heylel had been gone, and then God had left taking Gabriel with him, and everything had only further broken after that. It shouldn’t have been permanent. Heaven on Earth was meant for  _ all the angels _ .  _ Heylel included. _

“And to the Archangels I pray.” Anna felt the knife digging in to her neck, but it was just a knife and she didn’t care about it. She cared about  _ fixing her family  _ because that was the only thing in the universe that mattered. “To St. Michael the Archangel, I pray that you might defend us in battle. And to your mate, St. Heyl, I beg that you might bring us Peace in the time of great strife, and that our families might all someday be restored to what they once were. Even should this be a future I don’t live to see, I would wish it for my children and my children’s children. To St. Raphael, the Archangel, I pray for healing and safe travels, wherever I might go. And lastly, to St. Gabriel, I pray that you might carry my message swiftly, that it might reach its destination unhindered, wherever it may go.” She could feel the blood rolling down her neck as the blade pressed against it. “Ashes to Ashes and Dust to Dust. For dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return. Amen.”

Anna closed her eyes as her focus was blurry at best, and certain as she was that death was imminent, she didn’t want to see it coming.

And then, even though her eyes were closed, the light was too bright to stand.

When the light cleared, Anna could see five new figures. Just as the demon was blurry, so too were they.

But the wings spread behind four of them were clearly visible to her.

Raphael and their hundred pairs of multicolored masterpieces, Gabriel with his four pairs designed for swiftness, Michael, three pairs of feathers both dark and light serrated weapons. And lastly, Heyl. His five pairs of wings had once been brighter than any supernova, but his time in the cage had dulled them significantly.

The fifth figure was not someone that Anna recognized for having seen them before, nor were they any angel at all. Yet despite being in the presence of archangels, their own was not diminished. She could see the bright soul, an aura as bright as angelic grace.

She wondered if she was hallucinating. As far as she knew, it wasn’t possible for a human to have a soul on par with archangels. And yet, he was.  _ A Winchester. _

Ruby turned away from Anna without lowering the knife. Upon seeing the human, her smirk became even more smug.

“Ah good, I was hoping you’d bring the bargaining chip with you. It’s good to see you again,  _ Sam _ . Could you just not get enough? Had to crawl your way up through the food chain like the slut that you are? Does their blood make you feel powerful?”

Sam might have lunged for her, but Raph placed a calming hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Demon, release Anna and we might be merciful enough to let you live.”

Ruby lifted her arm that wasn’t holding the knife and wagged her index finger. “Ah, ah, ah. Give me what I want, and I might leave enough of her for you to play with. Test me, and she’s already dead.”

“There’s nothing stopping us from smiting you where you stand,” Michael said.

“If you do that, the antidote to the poison goes with me.” Ruby waited while they looked at each other in confusion. “Give me the Boy with the Demon Blood or the girl dies.”

Sam looked entreatingly at Raphael, already prepared to step forward.

“As the humans say, ‘We don’t negotiate with terrorists,’” Gabriel snarled. “Give Anna the antidote.”

“So you’re not going to hand over the Boy? Then maybe I should sweeten the deal.” The demon snapped and a moment later, Dean Winchester was standing next to Anna. His wrists and ankles were cuffed and there was a spectacular bruise forming above his right eye. “You really shouldn’t leave your toys lying around when you’re done with them. I’ll repeat myself one last time for you, Viceroy. Give me my master’s vessel, and I’ll return yours in mostly one piece, along with your sister, and the antidote. God forbid that I stand in the way of the final battle going down. You have 30 seconds to decide before the antidote becomes ineffective and the fallen angel dies.”

Ruby removed the knife from Anna’s neck and the young adult slid to the ground coughing as her weight became too much for her to bear.

“What the fuck is going on! I wake up from a nap because the couch got thrown over and then I’m kidnapped by demons? I’m going to fucking stab you with the fucking demon killing knife!”

Ruby turned, whacking Dean’s bruise with the butt of the knife hard enough that he crumpled. “This is your last chance,” she said, turning back towards the archangels. “Sam Winchester for Dean Winchester and the angelic scum.”

Sam squirmed. His instincts demanded that he go to Dean. Dean was not the only thing that mattered, but but had always come near the top of his priorities. He pushed Raphael’s arm off him with a muttered, “I have to.”

“Give Anna the antidote,” he demanded, louding, taking one step forward, then another.

“Ever the predictable hero.” Ruby stepped forward so she was right in front of Sam. “Tempting, but I already know the archangels behind you aren’t going to just let me leave with you.” 

Anna spasmed as coughing wracked her body. She couldn’t inhale and the injury to her neck burned further.

Ruby held up what appeared to be a black pearl. She was holding this in the hand that was not holding the knife. “Catch.” She threw the pearl up into the air between them.

“No!” Raphael shouted, and time almost stopped as the demon, and the pearl with her, burst into flame.

Sam dove forward. He could see the rise and fall of Dean’s chest, but the girl did not look okay and he had to do something. He didn’t know who the girl was, only that Ruby had revealed she was an angel (possibly graceless, if she was so much more human than the other angels) and Sam  _ wanted  _ to help her.

  
  


Even if there was no antidote or time, there had to be  _ something  _ he could do. Sam  _ reached  _ for the power that had allowed him to heal Castiel’s wings. If he had been able to restore the feathers, maybe he could cure the poison too.

_ Please God, please let me heal her, if it be thy will. _

Ruby burned and the archangels watched as Sam’s frame started to glow faintly. The glow stretched to encompass Anna until her form was even brighter.

_ “Do you want to be restored, Anna?”  _ It wasn’t Sam’s thought, but Sam could hear it, feel it. The Entity that had filled him up had come back to act through him again and all he felt was both love and comfort.

_ “Please,” _ she answered. They weren’t speaking, but Sam could hear it.  _ “I want to go Home.” _

Sam exhaled and the glow intensified.

Anna glowed, wings unfurling that had been hidden away for millenia.

  
  


Certain that everything was going to be fine, Gabriel slipped away, with promises of returning Dean to the motel he’d been kidnapped from.

The rest of the demons also burned and Raphael approached so they could catch Sam when the presence of God left him.

“I’m sorry about what Uriel and Naomi did to you. And you are of course welcome to return to Heaven, if that’s what you want.”

“I do want to go home,” Anna said. “I want to see Gadreel. And I need to see for myself that the fledglings are okay.”

“Perhaps a little worse for wear, but Dad has been looking out for them. He’s on Earth, but you should be able to find him too.”

Anna nodded. “I think I’ll go to Heaven first.” With that, she was gone.

Raphael turned to where Mikha and Heyl were standing close together and out of the way. “I’m going to take Sam, are you two good?”

Mikha and Heyl shared a look. “We’re good,” Heyl said. “We’re probably going to stick around for awhile.”

Raphael nodded and then both he and Sam were gone, leaving Mikha and Heyl alone.

Mikha hugged Heyl and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

Heyl sighed, but leaned to rest his head on Mikha’s shoulder. “I think I’ve made my peace with my mistakes. But I missed you so much, and that does hurt.”

They sat on the ground, foreheads pressed together. There was so much for them to talk about, but they were also going to bask in this victory.

“What do you think of Dean?” Mikha asked. “The two of you were so cute, and Dean looked so comfortable in my blanket.”

Heyl bit his lip, but he had learned his lesson when it came to mistruths. He shrugged. “He’s interesting. Reminds me of you. But I don’t want a repeat of what happened with Lilith.”

Mikha frowned at hearing the name that had caused so much _ wrong _ . “Seeing you and Dean together was very aesthetically pleasing. And it won’t be a repeat of Lilith because I’ll be  _ right there  _ with you, this time.” He leaned forward to kiss the top of his mate’s head. “Will you tell me the truth about the cage and Lilith, Sweetheart? You wouldn’t have cast her out of Heaven without a good reason.”

“I should  _ never  _ have allowed her to corner me.” Heyl leaned back away from MIkha. He might have pulled in on himself, but Mikha wasn’t going to let his mate hide.

Mikha followed Heyl’s retreat and pressed close to his mate. “You don’t have to tell me, but I’d like to know what happened.”

Heyl didn’t want to dwell on the past, but he wasn’t about to create more mistruth, either. “She wouldn’t stop harassing me and I thought I could handle it. Until it got so far out of control.” He pressed himself against Mikha. “I knocked Lilith out of Heaven on accident, acting in self defence. And then I wouldn’t tell Dad the truth.”

“Is that why you refused to speak in your own defence? You might as well have volunteered to go to the cage.”

“I sort of did,” Heyl admitted quietly. “Maybe I thought I deserved it, or maybe that by being in time out, I didn’t have to deal with the consequences, I don’t know. Dad told me that you would have the opportunity to let me free, and over time, I started thinking that you agreed I deserved to be there.”

Mikha hugged Heyl. “I never thought you deserved it, but I should have trusted that you had done it for a good reason.” He sighed. “I should have let you out sooner. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Heyl kissed Mikha’s cheek. “We’re both here now and it’s okay.”

“Should I apologize to Dean for waking him up this morning?”

  
“It  _ was  _ kind of rude to knock him off the couch.”

* * *

Once Sam was safely returned to the motel, and awake enough for Raphael to dismiss themself without abandoning him, they went back to Chuck’s house.

They were upset and they weren’t sure they could coherently explain exactly what it was that had upset them so much. They had seen from Gadreel’s memories exactly what Naomi and Uriel had done to Anna and they were upset that their Father had not seen fit to help Anna from the beginning and that even when her life had been in danger, He had not shown himself personally. Instead, He had acted through Sam, and Raphael was concerned because they did not know if Sam had outright consented and if nothing else, he deserved that respect.

“Dad?” Raphael called out when they reached the foyer of the house.

It only took them a minute to determine the whereabouts of their father so they headed up the stairs in the direction they felt Him. They weren’t sure what their goal was, but their emotions were confusing and they  _ needed  _ an explanation.

“Dad, why did you allow-” They burst into the room they could feel in Him and their words died on their tongue.

He was standing with His back mostly to the door and in His arms there was a sleeping child who could have not been more than three.

Hearing His child, Chuck turned and put a finger on his lips. “Shh, Rafa, you’re going to wake her.” With one of His hands He brushed the child’s forehead, but Raphael could not feel Him using any grace. “I know that you’re angry with me for not stepping in to help Anna, but I was needed here more. I knew that you and your brothers had everything under control.”

“Why are you working so directly through Sam? He’s not really a vessel, and he’s had so many people and creatures manipulate him into trying to be things he’s not.”

“Sam Winchester has a habit of believing himself to be irreparably tainted and undeserving of anyone’s love, let alone mine. And yet he’s always been devoted to his faith. He wanted to heal your sister so I helped him do so. But if it would make you feel better, I’ll ask his permission before doing it again in the future.” Chuck glanced away from Raphael and down at the baby he was holding. “As for what was so important that I didn’t show up myself, I’d like you to meet Mary Ruth Moore-Winchester.”

* * *

Dean was alone in the motel room  _ again _ . Even though Raphael had left Sam once he’d woken, it hadn’t taken very long for him to come  _ right back _ for him. Which Dean didn’t mind, except he didn’t want to be alone. Wrapped in the oddly colored blanket, he was curled up on the couch in a shape as small as physically possible.

He was having the worst possible day  _ ever _ . He’d been rudely awoken by being thrown on the floor by archangels throwing furniture, and then he’d been kidnapped, and Gabriel had done something so the chaffing from the chains would go away but that didn’t fix the part where he could still feel how tight and uncomfortable they’d been.

Dean was also cold, and even though he’d known right from the start that Heyl and Mikha were madly in love, that hadn’t stopped him from forming some kind of attachment to how platonic Heyl had been, holding him and hugging him and making him feel safe, and now he was never going to see them again and it just hurt so  _ much _ .

And Sam wasn’t here for him to talk to because his archangel had rushed him off  _ again. _ So he was all alone and incapable of not dwelling on this unhealthy attachment that he couldn’t have.

That was about when the two eldest archangels showed up not two meters in front of him. Heyl was holding Mikha’s hand and they looked so fucking  _ happy  _ that he could just feel his heart breaking in two when it had absolutely no business feeling anything at all.

It wasn’t even that he had any desire for sexual intimacy with either of them, because he  _ didn’t. _ He just wanted to be hugged again.

Dean shivered as he wondered why they were even here.

Heyl glanced at his mate and then stepped forward towards the other end of the couch from where Dean was lying. “We wanted to check in on you,” he said.

Mikha kneeled on the floor. “I wanted to apologize for waking you up this morning. I realize in retrospect that knocking the furniture over was rude and that I should have better controlled my excitement.”

“Mmm.”

There was a cushion upright on the couch to Dean’s side, so he moved it under his chin. He was curled around himself, but he was also belly down on the couch. He was  _ exhausted  _ and if there was one thing he didn’t want to be doing it was this.

“Dean…”

“Why are you here?” He wasn’t going to play these games. He didn’t have to. “You’ve been separated for what, thousands of years? Why aren’t you off reaffirming yourselves to each other?” He ran his finger along the edge of the couch, fidgeting.

“Dean,” Mikha said softly. “Heyl and I don’t need to reaffirm what we already know is true.”

That didn’t explain  _ why  _ they had come, though, but Dean didn’t respond. He did stop tracing the weird symbol on the couch and instead tried to tighten the blanket around himself.

Mikha couldn’t help but smile at the adjustment of the blanket. It was the blanket he and Heyl had made together and while his other favorite blanket was still draped around his mate’s wings, it hadn’t occurred to him that the other blanket had not also gone to Heyl.

Even so, with Dean Winchester wrapped in the ancient multi-colored fabric with dropped stitches, Mikha couldn’t think of anywhere else he’d prefer it.

“Why are you staring?” Dean asked.

Mikha shook his head, but he didn’t stop smiling. “Heyl started making that blanket a long time ago and I helped him finish it. It was one of the things that got me through the last few thousand years.”

Dean swallowed, shifting to unwrap it. “You should take it back then, I’m sorry. I’m not sure where it came from.”

“Shh.” Heyl reached to tuck the edge of the blanket back around Dean. “It’s okay. I’m sure that Dad gave it to you for a reason, and you do look kinda cute in it.”

Dean’s breath hitched at the softness of Heyl tucking him in. Why was the archangel being so nice? Why was he even there? Heyl had his husband back after  _ millennia  _ so why were they  _ here _ ? What did they want from him?!

Mikha stepped forward, concerned by Dean’s distress and mistaking the cause. “Dean? Are you alright?”

Alright? No, he wasn’t fucking alright. He had been randomly kidnapped and his brother had left him alone afterwards, and he didn’t  _ want  _ to be alone, but he also didn’t want to get in the way of two archangels who ought to have been horny.

“It’s okay if you’re not alright, you did just get kidnapped,” Heyl added. “Do you need anything?

Yep. He needed to be both left alone and not alone. “Please… sit?” He didn’t want them hovering, and at least if they sat down maybe they wouldn’t be quite so obviously out of place.

Heyl sat by Dean’s head and Mikha near his feet, and Dean  _ didn’t understand. _

“We’re here for you,” the elder archangel said quietly, and wasn’t that odd? To Dean, he couldn’t really  _ see  _ their immense power just by looking at them. They looked,  _ human,  _ and like they were possibly the same age as himself and Sam, not  _ infinitely older _ .

And to be completely honest, they kind of reminded him of the couple in the bar that had made him feel incredibly uncomfortable. And yet these two hadn’t suggested, verbally, anything of the sort. They had just been… kind.

Dean bit his lip. He wanted to be hugged, but he had no idea how to ask, or if they would even give him that. Why would they? Raphael had implied they were more or less happily married and had been for  _ aeons.  _ Who was he to encroach on that? He didn’t want anything more than a platonic hug, but did they even know what platonic hugs were?

Without thinking about it, he reached towards Heyl because earlier they had been sitting comfortably close and it had been nice, but as soon as he realized what he was doing, he pulled back into himself.  _ No _ .

“It’s okay, Dean,” Heyl whispered, leaning forward. 

Dean’s breath hitched and he was pretty sure his heart stopped beating. He  _ shouldn’t  _ want this. He didn’t want to want this. And with the archangel leaning so close to him, he felt claustrophobic.

He felt… afraid. But not unsafe. For such a long time in his formative years, anyone bigger or stronger than him had been allowed to do just about whatever they’d wanted to him.

It wasn’t that way now, and he knew,  _ knew,  _ that there was no way Heyl or Mikha would hurt him. But he was still scared. And confused.

He was crying.

“I’m sorry,” Heyl whispered. “I should have asked first.”

The weight of the blanket he was wrapped in changed. But not like a person had encroached on his space. It felt like the blanket had changed thickness, and as he pressed the material between his fingers he found that it had. Instead of a thin material, it had become a much thicker blanket. A compression blanket. It still looked the same visibly, with the skipped threads and changing colors, but it was weighted.

It felt like being hugged, but not like being hugged by another person, and even though he never could have voiced how much he’d wanted it,  _ it was exactly right _ .

“Do you want us to leave?” Mikha asked from behind him. But not  _ too  _ close.

Dean breathed slowly while he thought about an answer. It was almost first instinct to get them on their way as quickly as possible, but he still didn’t want to be alone. Sam wasn’t back yet and he’d already been kidnapped once. “If you’re sure you don’t have more important things to be doing, I’d like you both to stay. If that’s okay.”

“Of course, Dean. We’d like that,” Heyl said.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, and it felt nice. Neither archangel was too close or too far away and he felt safe. He was still wound tightly and unable to relax, but this was okay for the moment.

"Did you panic when Heyl tried to hug you because of something one of us has done? Or because of something that happened before?"

Dean swallowed. Why did they care? Why did it matter? So he was broken, but that was hardly new. "It caught me off guard." He was still coming to terms with the part where they  _ wanted  _ to touch him. And he couldn't figure out if they wanted  _ more _ . "But it wasn't anything either of you did." Except where they were being so  _ nice _ to him.

"We don't want to hurt you," Heyl whispered again. "Dean, Mikha apologizing wasn't the only reason we're here."

Dean raised an eyebrow. He should have known. "It wasn't?" 

"I wanted to thank you for looking after the fledglings yesterday when I brought them by. I should have asked if it was okay first and I'm sure that I could have been more help keeping them out of trouble."

"It wasn’t a problem," Dean said before he could stop himself. "I like kids, they're fun. And any kid is less trouble than Sammy was."

Dean couldn't see it, but Mikha's eyes widened. "Did you raise your little brother?"

"Dad sure as Hell wasn't going to and someone had to keep cps out of the way." He shifted, trying to tighten the blanket around him as though it could protect him from dark childhood memories. "There was never enough  _ anything _ ," he whispered, choked out. "Never enough  _ money _ ."

"Is it okay if we hug you?" Mikha asked.

Dean nodded. He  _ wanted  _ to be hugged, had to know it was coming.

The weight and warmth of both bodies was comforting.

"I swear," one of the archangels whispered. Dean didn't know which, maybe both. "That won't happen again."

Dean believed and he wasn't even sure to what specific thing they were referring to. It didn't sound like they were talking about not having the necessities. Had they extrapolated the things he had resorted to because of it? Or maybe they just meant they wouldn't let him raise any more children without a support system. 

The embrace tightened, but it didn't make him feel claustrophobic this time. He just felt… cared about.

* * *

“Where are we going?” Sam asked earlier when Raphael came back with unbridled excitement.

“Dad wants to introduce you to someone,” Raphael answered. “You’ll like this.”

Which led to Raphael flying Sam back to Chuck’s house. They landed on the front porch facing out into the front lawn where the fledglings were playing. None of the fledglings had their wings visible, which was why it took Sam so long to realize that there were a couple extra children in the yard that hadn’t been there the last time he and Raphael had visited.

He would have assumed that they were all other fledglings, but with the sight of a handful of adults sitting on a porch across the street, he came to the realization that at least a few of them had to be kids from the neighborhood. It made him happy to know that despite everything, the fledglings were able to find some form of peace, even if just by playing in the yard with other children that lived near them.

He turned to look at Raphael, and suggest they let Chuck know that they were there, but something caught his eye.

A young blonde girl, wearing a light blue shirt, gray leggings, and a soft pink tutu, with a sparkly pair of strap-on fairy wings on her back, occasionally slipping down one of her shoulders as she ran, chasing some of the other younger fledglings. She looked like nearly every other child there, especially since she was running with the others, but there was something about her that seemed to draw his attention, the same way that the fledglings did, causing him to know that they were different from the other children. But this girl wasn’t a fledgling, was she?

Before Sam could consider asking Raphael who the girl was, she had changed direction again and was running towards them.

And then Sam placed her and exactly why she had drawn his attention from the beginning and it felt like his heart had risen up into his throat.

The little girl was the spitting image of Jessica Moore Winchester.

“Who dat?" she asked, tugging on Raphael's sleeve.

"That's Sam, Mary. He's your…"

Sam didn't hear what else Raphael said, but he didn't need to. He and Jess had talked about what they wanted to name their kid and it had been Jess' idea to name a girl after his mother and he'd felt excited about that.

But the yellow eyed demon had killed Jess and it shouldn't have been possible for their child to survive.

* * *

"You can be as mad at me as you want," Chuck said. "But I swear that Raphael didn't know."

Sam and Chuck were standing inside, next to the window, and could see as Raphael played with the fledglings and Mary.

Sam was not happy, but he wasn't just or only angry. He wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to feel. He'd been cheated out of three years of her life.  _ Her third birthday had occurred within the last fortnight. _ Nor had he been able to mourn properly, what with all the lies to Dean.

And hunting was no place to raise a child. He knew that better than anyone. But Dean…

"I don't think you're giving your brother enough credit. I think he'll be happy as long as you are happy."

For most of Sam's life, he would have agreed, but there had been so long where it had been all about the hunt and nothing else. But at the same time, so much had changed in the last fortnight.

"It wouldn't have been safe to raise her with Azazel intent on breaking me," Sam said slowly. "But what's stopping whatever monster comes after us looking for revenge or what-have-you?"

Chuck raised an eyebrow. "Raphael is courting you, and my eldest sons are happily chasing your brother. Do you doubt your safety?"

Sam glanced out the window so he could breathe and think without looking at Chuck.  _ How many times had he heard whispers of "Have faith" and "God provides" to those who were at their weakest or most lost? And there had been times when his faith had been his only belonging. So why was it so hard to accept this possible future right in front of him? _

Mary's laughter brought him out of his thoughts. She was giggling as Raphael tickled her and there was no sweeter sound. No djinn or siren could have ever dreamed of replicating it.  _ This was the future he wanted. He was only resisting because so often had he witnessed his desires pulled from his grip and more or less flushed down the toilet. _

Not this time.


	9. Epilogue

"What do you think, Sam? I'm not sure which color looks better." Anna held two dresses by their hangers, one in each hand. They were the same dress, but one of them was in a dark blue and the other was in solid black. The seraph shifted them in front of her, taking the time to look at herself in the mirror while taking turns with which dress she was holding in front of her body.

Sam was holding Mary's hand and making sure she didn't run off more than he was paying attention to Anna's choices. At the same time, there were some pieces of clothing that he couldn't resist touching. There were much softer articles in the women's section than the men's.

There were a few items draped over his other arm that he wanted to try on, but he was a little hesitant about it.  _ What if he didn't like them? What if he did? _

"Sam?"

Sam shook his head to clear it. He was here with Anna and Mary to have a good time, not worry about things that he didn’t  _ need  _ to be worried about. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“Why don’t you go try on what you’ve got there, and I’ll help Mary find something cute to wear, as well as a few cute little casual outfits, my treat?”

He was nervous about letting Mary out of his sight, especially when he hadn’t known that she had even existed until a few months ago. Perhaps it was the ‘New Parent Nerves’ that he had heard several people talking about, but Anna was an angel. What harm could really come to either of them, especially when she had the strongest beings in the world ready to come to her every need?

With a shaky breath, he knelt down to pick up Mary, holding her on a hip as he considered it. “What do you say, you wanna go with Miss Anna and look at pretty dresses?”

Mary grinned, nodding quickly. “Yeah! Sparkles!”

Anna laughed quietly, reaching to take Mary from Sam’s arms. “Alright hun, we’ll find you something with sparkles, and let your Daddy try and find something to wear so he can stop stealing clothing from Raph, so they can both live happily ever after.”

There was a soft gasp from Mary then. “Like princesses?”

Sam watched with a smile as Anna turned to walk towards the children’s section, talking quietly with Mary as they went. And then he looked back to the clothing that he had draped over his arm, and the anxiety began to grow once more.  _ What if he liked one of the dresses enough to buy it? Suppose he did like it. For what occasion did he even  _ have  _ to wear a dress? Sure, Raphael wore them whenever they felt like it, but that didn’t mean that  _ he  _ could. _

Still at war with himself, he ended up inside a dressing room before he could could decide to put the dresses back, which was for the best because as soon as he tried on the last one, he was in  _ love _ .

It was a soft summer dress that was not too tight for his broad shouldered frame while still having a comfortably fitted bodice and loose flowy skirt that went a little below his knees. He didn’t feel as though he would suffocate and it was a cute color. The skirt of the dress was a soft blue while the top was a nice cream color, that laced up the back with a blue ribbon a little darker than the skirt.

_ He wanted it for himself _ . He wanted it so much that there was a small piece inside of him that  _ ached  _ and he didn’t have any idea what to do with that knowledge. For so long he had lived in the hunter’s mindset that every single purchase had to have a  _ purpose.  _ This dress wasn’t made of a sturdy fabric that could withstand the wear and tear they always put on their clothing, and wearing it in public would be more likely to hinder their efforts than get them the information they wanted because people they came in contact with just  _ weren’t  _ opened minded enough.

“Hey, Sam? How’s the shopping trip going?” Raphael’s voice was coming from right outside the dressing room and there was  _ nothing  _ that Sam wanted to hear more than that.

Sam opened the dressing room door because he wanted to see  _ his mate  _ and it never occurred to him that he wasn’t wearing his own clothing because the dress was like a second skin.

Raphael almost had to pick their jaw up off the floor. Sam Winchester was gorgeous.

“Do you like it?” Sam’s voice was hesitant and when Raphael didn’t answer right away, doubt crept back into his mind because  _ what if Raph didn’t? _

“Sam, you’re the most beautiful human I’ve ever met and I would still think that if you were wearing rags. But yes, Sam, I do like it. You look comfortable and that dress is adorable _ . _ ” They hugged Sam. "Did Anna take Mary to look at other things?"

"Anna was going to help her find a sparkly dress." Sam leaned his head into Raph's shoulder. "Can we go cuddle?" He trusted Anna with Mary and he just wanted his mate to hold him because it had been a stressful afternoon.

"Of course." After pressing a kiss to Sam's forehead, Raphael snapped.

* * *

Sam didn’t quite fall asleep while he and Raphael snuggled on the bed, but he did feel a lot more relaxed and calm.

The bedroom door squeaked open.

“Daddy! Rarah! I’m sparkly!”

Sam turned towards where his daughter was coming from and found that Anna had indeed found Mary something with sparkles. The dress was long sleeved and came a little past her knees. It was bright pink and covered entirely with sequins that also seemed to have been dusted in a glitter the same color, that Sam was absolutely positive would come to cover every surface in the whole building.

“You’re very sparkly, Sweetpea,” Sam said. “Did Miss Anna help you find it?”

“Yeah, Daddy! Miss Anna’s the bestest!”

“She is a pretty good sister,” Raphael agreed. They glanced towards where Anna was still standing in the doorway. “Sweetpea, why don’t you go play with Miss Anna awhile? It looks like she’s waiting for you.”

“Okay, Rarah!” The child turned around and ran towards the angel in the doorway. Sam mouthed a thank you in her direction and Anna smiled in return.

The door closed behind the angel and child.

“You’re so good with her,” Sam whispered, relaxing back against his archangel.

Raphael kissed Sam’s forehead, but didn’t say anything.

  
  


Sam had almost dozed off by the time Raphael spoke. 

“Samuel, I love you, and I’m happy with our family the way that it is, but… will you marry me?”

Sam blinked. He was happy, but confused. “Isn’t marriage a mortal concept? Not an angel thing?”

“Angels and archangels mate for life. Weddings might not be something that we’ve done in the past, but what does that mean? I’m sure that Dad would be happy to officiate and if we have it here in Heaven,  _ anyone  _ you want to attend can.”

What was he supposed to say? He wanted it more than anything else, but he was afraid.

“You can think about it, if you want to.”

“I do want to marry you,” Sam said. “Uh, awhile ago you offered to let me go see Jess. Is that offer still on the table, and can I take Mary?”

“Absolutely.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [An Experiment in Color](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21383818) by [Hyrulehearts1123](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyrulehearts1123/pseuds/Hyrulehearts1123)


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